Cora's Story
by M. Beatrice
Summary: The District 4 Tribute of the 52nd annual Hunger Games.
1. Chapter 1

It had been a while since I had driven in Papa's car, even longer since I'd been through this area. It must have been the last Reaping now that I thought about it. There were times that I'd driven here to get to District 4's Capital, Mercado, once for to go to a special doctor when I got my ear infection at eight, another to go to a celebratory dinner for Papa and his company when I was fourteen but besides those and a few other spotted trips Mama and I really only went to Mercado annually for the Reaping. Papa went more and could relax as he drove, memorizing the twisted short cuts and routes. I mostly watched out the windows as we traveled through the small markets and humbler areas of Burbs. It must have been about two months ago since I was in the car, when Papa drove me to another "better" shopping center for my birthday. I remember I finally got to sit in the front (Mama had had to go to a hair appointment) and watch the streets like Papa did when he drove. I made him promise me on the way that he would teach me to drive his car also, just for the fun of it. Reluctantly he agreed and that promise far exceeded my excitement for the "chic" new center or any of the dresses he'd bought me there. We hadn't gotten the chance to have our lesson yet (apparently the supply of wheat in District 5 had gone down drastically due to a frost they had experienced earlier this month, Papa had been frantically shipping them a special fertilizer sent from The Capitol all month, apparently sending it by boat was much cheaper then by train and so Papa and his company were booming) but I knew he'd keep his end of the bargain. He wouldn't dare to cross me, I thought as I smirked out the window.

How impressive would I be, not only would I be able to travel by boat but also by land as well now. Though I of course understood that there would be very little reason for me to ever need to drive just having the skill was good enough. I thought maybe I'd ask his to teach me, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to learn in one lesson or if it would take multiple, next week on Saturday. It was forecasted to be blazing that day and I was reluctant to leave the cool comfort of my home as well as well as annoyed that I would assumingly be cooped up in my room all day. Shade didn't help much on days like those when the sun beat down on you so hard just stepping outside sent beads of sticky sweat down your back. Ugh. Today was much nicer, only seventy-eight, slightly cool for late summer. Others were taking advantage of the nice weather outside as they walked there way to Mercado. Small groups of girls held hands and jabbered, there mothers a few steps behind having there own conversations. Boys rode their bikes together in packs. There were a few strays, not many people headed out this early, with the sun still rising, but I considered them the smarter ones. God forbid you be late, then the peacekeepers would really get you then. I'd never experienced their wrath first hand, merely smiling at them as Mama and Papa trained me to do when I was younger, but I'd heard stories…. That's why we always drove. Mama wouldn't have had it any other way mind you (the sun caused wrinkles apparently and god knows she gotten enough in her youth) and the three-hour walk to Mercado was out of the question anyway. I don't think I would really mind, but then again I'd never had to take it. I watched more groups as they walked on past.

I noticed, when we stopped at a light, a younger boy holding the hand of his mother, his eyes looked red and she kept rubbing his nest of brown curls in comfort. Twelve. Oh that magical year, I thought as I sighed. We drove on and I watched as the crying boy and his mother eventually went out of sight. Two smaller blobs in the sun, the wind from the ocean whipping their hair back, and then a building as we turned left carrying on our own way. There were more groups, I purposely watched for teenagers now, especially the younger ones. See if I could catch a tear, even shudder. There were many a nervous looks and frantic whispers but I didn't spy any other crying.

I hadn't cried my first year either, District 4 was a huge district, third largest behind 5 and 11, and plus, there was almost always at least one volunteer. Still, this hadn't stopped my heart from skipping regularly or my breath from gasping as I was hurried to my seat and the young man had called the girls name that year. It had been Constantine. Constantine something, I couldn't remember, but I do recall the blood draining from my face as I heard the hard "C" sound and knew- just knew- he was going to finish with "ora". Cora. Id even thought I'd heard it but then the blood stopped gushing behind my ears and I heard the whispers of "Constantine", "Constantine" around me. Some in questioning, some in relief. I let out a huge sigh then and a slightly older girl to my right had smirked down at me knowingly. My Mama had hugged me proudly and quickly after that, a rare occurrence, as if I'd done something honorable by not getting picked. The moment ended quickly though she then let go of me and, shooting back up, flattened her top and proclaimed she needed a drink. As she turned Papa had winked at me and I'd beamed. It had been so beautifully relaxing then. The scariness was over, I'd survived, the next Reaping was a whole year away, that seemed like ages back then. Since then I've learned not to be so worried about the Reaping. Of course every person in that building holds their breath (excitement, worry, anticipation, horror) as the names are being called but since there in, literally, a one in a million chance Cora Gil will ever be called I don't usually find myself dreading the pearly white Justice Building nearly as much as I did in years past. Plus after this year there is just one more and then I'm officially a survivor. I spend the rest of the car ride watching the humble quite houses grow more and more extravagant as we head closer to the heart of District 4. Mama and Papa discuss something but I don't listen to them, if Mama's talking it mustn't be of much importance anyway.

Mercado is a very modern village of District 4 and is designed to take after the fashionable style of The Capitol. It's pristine and glamorous and while I used to gawk at its marvel when I was younger I find myself thinking the whole thing seems so unnatural to the lifestyle of District 4 now. I have never been alive so long as to experience the weather reach below sixty degrees and yet the locals here strut down the streets in furs. They walk on heels that make them look like swamp birds, they coat there faces with thick make up that must be unsweatable in the heat of the day which beats down on them. And while the colors usually portrayed around the streets and worn by the people do reflect that of the see and local flowers it all seems a little too much. I more then anyone else can appreciate fashion. I love glancing through magazines my mother discards after studying, I understand the importance of the way one presents themselves to the world, how they choose to have other view them throughout there day, what inspires and moves them. Yet the people here just seem like wannabes of the Capitols own unique designs. I watch them and wish District 4 could have its own identity besides fishing. But then again, I think solemnly, that would be besides the point. They don't want any originals do they? New ideas are dangerous. _It is dangerous to be right when your government is wrong_. I touch my pointer finger to my collarbone and think about that.

We arrive at the hotel Mama wanted to stay at this year. If we had ever stayed here I do not recall it. She gets out of the car, all in a flutter; she has done her makeup in the way she only does it when she's here, with her eyelids bright blue and her lips a softer grey. Her face is patted down with a thin layer of powder. I've gotten used to this, she says it's the only time she gets to dress how she wants to, I think that's garbage as she has absolutely every right to dress this way in Burbs. She'd be the only one though. Most women there settle for simple navy eyeliner and pastel lip balm. She just wants to be one of the crowd I suppose.

We wash up in the hotel, it's nice, I have my own room though I share a bathroom with Mama and Papa. That's fine as long as I keep my things in my room, I don't think I'd be able to find them under the mountains of makeup and wigs displayed on the counter and under the sink. It's only for two days though.

Because the Reaping is at 3:30 and it is only 11:00 now the three of us head out to a restaurant one of Mama's friends said she just "would die without experiencing". My dad folds under her will when Mama demands he wear sparkling belt and shoes, as well as a matching earing.

"It's so trendy Bien, really you should let me dress you up more often"

He refrains from stating that she does buy most of his clothes as well as minimal makeup. Mostly it just includes a nice silk down shirt and casual pants ("I still spend most of my day in the boat yard honey") but there is the occasional diamond studded pants or lavender vest. He doesn't complain, I honestly don't think he cares. I do though, and even if I did enjoy the cookie cutter clothes Mama insists she buys for me I still wouldn't wear them, even if it were simply out of spite.

"Cora please, please it's a nice occasion we are going to the Reaping directly after lunch. Please just a hint of hair dye"

"I don't want any"

"Oh but your eyes it will accent them so well!"

"No Mama"

"Fine then, a wig. It's less permanent. I think I brought my long green one with-"

"Mama! No, I said no. I'm not going to dress up in a costume for you!"

"Cora! It is not-"

"Genevieve" Papa simply shakes his head at her and she realizes she will not get her way with me. We may be uncommonly wealthy and important in Burbs but here we are of average income, something she feels is shameful and tries to cover up. I refuse to fall into this and resign to adding a simple silver dot to the corner of each eye along with painting the eye lashes black. I wear a nice white lace dress that shows my arms, nothing different then I'd wear to a fancy lunch in Burbs. My hair I twist in an assortment of braids of the hairline of my head, the rest falls across my back and over my left shoulder. Mama pouts and throws a small tantrum, and Papa frowns at my stubbornness, which has caused her distress. I don't budge though, I find stubbornness to be a good quality, and we head to the restaurant on foot, it is not but ten minutes away. Mama's parcel could easily cover us three it is so big and obnoxious. I find myself walking a few steps behind her so people won't associate us together. I think she does the same, purposely rushing herself and Papa down the sidewalks crowded with glamorous strangers.

The restaurant is in fact very lovely. I order the mussels, Papa the clam chowder and Mama, with her nose high in the air, gets the blue dolphin. I glare at her, Papa sighs to himself. I wonder if he's worried about the cost. We do not have much time to waste as we leave the restaurant at 2:50 yet the three of us do not initially head to the Justice Building. I think subconsciously we are trying to avoid it. Even if we know we cant forever. After a while we do start making are way over along with the other crowds of people walking the same direction, like magnets I studied as a third grader in school, all being drawn towards the same place. By the time we do reach the gates of the Justice Building we are swarmed into a pack of hundreds of other people. Honestly there is no way to avoid this no matter what time one should arrive here. I remember again my first time being separated from my parents instead of sitting with them in their designated seats, which tower over the small stage. That year had been the first time I had been one of those children to be honored with the position to sit in front of the stage with over fifteen thousand other twelve through eighteen year olds and watch the names being called from ground level. I remember how the bleachers had surrounded me making me feel as though every eye was on me. Almost everyone in all of District 4 was there that day, as they were every year, to hear them call Constantine's name. She had walked up slowly to the stage taking almost five whole minutes from her spot in the way, way back. The cameras had abandoned the face of the District 4 host that year to study her. She had not cried but her face had been white as paper, her eyes crystal blue as she slowly inched her way to the stage. Ever eye on her. There had been no volunteer for her that year. When the boy had been called an eighteen year old tall young man had honorably taken his place. His frame had dwarfed Constantine's from where the cameras showed them next to each other on that stage. He had come in 5th place that year, she had died the first day. I cried when they showed her face in the night sky of the arena, they had also showed a small clip of her brother as well as he collapsed in tears. That had been five years ago from this day that they had called her up to risk her life, to die.

I walked into the building and through the archways leading to the thousands of red cushioned chairs splayed out across the area. I was not sure how each of the other districts arranged their meeting but over twenty years ago the Mayor of that time had decided, to cause less confusion that each possible tribute should be assigned a seat based on the village in District 4 they lived in. I myself agreed that this was a wise idea, along with the other declaration to provide chairs made fifty years ago. With the amount of people living in District 4 it really was necessary so for the last couple of years I had been directed, after showing my ticket, to the far left side, slightly towards the front. Being around familiar faces was comforting, I will admit, but also the familiarity of the view from the stage (about 200 yards away) as well as the constant gigantic screen that allowed me to watch the Reaping that truly calmed me. It was the same as it had been every year. This time I was assigned a seat in the Burb swarm of girls that was only ten or fifteen seats from the left edge of the possible tribute area. I had never been that close the edge before yet I still was not much fazed. I spotted Nadia Kipps to my right and waved happily as we made eye contact. She was an older girl in our school choir, sweet enough for me to like. After searching a little longer I noticed Cordelia Dime a couple of rows ahead of me who was my "Buddy" entering her first year of Advanced Schooling last year. She had been very quite. There were a couple of other faces that I spotted and recognized from classes, girls I knew from walking through the courtyard at school, or other who went to the same marina as my family, some who's fathers worked for mine at the boat yard. I smiled at a few, all of them smiled back. The Reaping had a way of doing that, bringing everyone together. It was ironic really. I had just spotted one of my good friends Grifith a few rows up and to my right when the voice of a young man spoke confidently through his mike on the stage. The Mayor and other officials as well as the past District 4 living Victors had already taken there places one the stage and the crowd had instantly hushed, almost eerily, eyes turning to the screens. I glanced at Grifith one more time hopping to catch her eye but reluctantly drew them away when I saw she was set on watching our hosts Jonah Thrice speak. He looked just as "fabulous" as every other local of Mercado. From the screen I could see his eyes where painted with long swirls of black paint ribboning down his cheeks. His goatee was trimmed at pointed, dyed a pinkish red and as he gestured to his left, signaling the Panem Anthem, I saw that his hands were covered in striking red gloves. His overall appearance strikingly resembled a lobster. Whether he had done this on purpose or not had no bother over the smile that quickly spread over my face. I stood with that smile as the music played and I honored my country and The Games. I watched him on the screen, his grin was even wider then mine. He had kept his position as District 4 host, an honor as we were an extremely vast and important district to Panem's overall existent. We also had the third most Victors living. There were four. Three men and one woman. Sometimes I liked to watch them as a tribute was called, they never smiled happily like the host did.


	2. Chapter 2

"Yes-yes, alright then, I know settle down now though" Jonah Thrice's voice boomed over the applause as the Anthem came to a close. The last few claps dwindled out and he smiled at the crowd.

"Yes thank you! As you know we gather here to pick one courageous young woman and young man to symbolize the powerful District 4 for this years Hunger Games!"

Clapping again. I slowly slapped my hands together as well as I searched the screens which now scanned over the vast amount of girls and boys, grouped together by sex and region. I didn't spot myself, nor anyone I knew.

"Alright then yes quite down," the clapping stopped and he smiled graciously at the crowd. I couldn't help but image every lobster I had pulled my spear sling back for and shot right in between the eyes as they starred up at me stupidly, unsuspecting of danger. I rip off their heads as they withered in pain at the end of my spear and let it drop to the sandy bottom of the ocean floor, the warm sea swaying my hair back like wind instead of water. Jonah carried on gesturing to the two large glass bowls on either side of him with his red lobster claws.

"So, no reason to waste time, lets have our tributes!" He laughed joyously and reached into a bowl as the crowd giggled back.

"For the young ladies!" the cameras caught him wiggling his eyebrows mischievously. I looked one last time to my right, trying to make eye contact with Grifith. A head was in my way, I tried to look around it but couldn't. I noticed a couple of younger girls clench fists, bite nails. I hadn't even looked up at the screen to see Jonah Thrice yank a small white slip out of his claws. I hadn't even seen him do it, I just wanted to see Grifith.

"Cora Gil!"

Cora Gil. Cora Gil. Cora. I knew that name. That girl. I knew her. Cora. The girl next to me relaxed and let out a big sigh. She was young, maybe this was even her first year sitting her in these red chairs dreading if her name should be called so relieved that it hadn't. Cora Gil. Nadia who I had waved at earlier was now starring at me in shock. Then another girl I had Marine Science with at school. A girl who I'd been friends with when I was younger. A girl who's mother was my mothers Tuesday night poker host. A girl who sat at the table next to me a lunch. A girl who's father owned the snack bar at the beach. The girl who was one of my teachers daughters. A girl who my father had fired the father of last year. A girl who strung the prettiest seashell anklets at school for free, she had made one for me last year, I still had it on. It was on my right ankle. Light pink shells.

"Cora Gil? I am pronouncing that right dear me!" Jonah Thrice beamed up at the vast thousands of people giggling at his potential foolishness. They, relieved and relaxed, laughed back.

"Cora Gil? Come up here love, come here!" he was smiling sweetly into the crowd of girls presented in front of him, slightly to his right.

I thought my legs were jelly. Surely if I stood I'd knead over. I'd fall and never be able to get back up. I stood. Now every girl was looking at me. The one who had sighed in relief next to me now looked up at me in horror and leaned away. As if I had a disease. I alone stood in the titanic room.

"Ah! Yes there you are dear, yes there you are! Hello yes come here love!" he beckoned for me easily with his hand. I could feel my hands shaking. Cora Gil. Cora. When I looked up to see his face on the screen I instead saw the face of Cora. It was white, as white as the dress she was wearing and as white as Constantine's had been five years ago when she had been twelve. The girl on the screens lips where parted ever so slightly. Her eyes looked wild.

"Come on" he beckoned again. There was the slightest hint of annoyance now. That's what I think got me to move. I looked to the girl on my left who was sitting. Staring up at me with wide eyes. Horrified she was next to Cora Gil.

"Excuse me I have to get out" I spoke quietly. She shifted her legs to one side and when I stiffly went to walk by her she recoiled when our skin meet. Each girl I pasted stared at me. I vaguely recalled the sound of applause muffling the air around me as I walked. One girl, the one on the edge reached out and I felt her lightly touch my calf with her fingers. Touch her Districts female tribute. What an honor.

I proceeded to the stage slowly, I felt if I moved tot quickly my heart should surely explode, or, sooner, my legs would purely give out. When I reached the stage stairs placed directly in the middle a peacekeeper dressed in pure white, the foam of waves when they crashed, gently took my right hand and assisted me up the stairs. At the top I could see Jonah Thrice, so close to me and in person, smiling down joyously. I clutched the peacekeeper's hand harshly, I felt him whence slightly at the death grip as we carefully made our way up the stairs. My left hand shook, out of the corner of my eye I could see us climbing up the stairs, all in white, on the cameras. At the top of the stairs instead of merely letting my hand go I felt the peacekeeper squeeze it reassuringly and then drop it smoothly. I broke my glazed look as he handed me to Jonah Thrice to look at him. His eyes were set behind the glass on his helmet. He nodded firmly. Strongly. I felt myself nod back, not wanting to part from his young eyes but being forced to. My heart raced even wilder as I realized where I was. I could feel it throbbing under my jawline and in my wrists as well but I blinked and looked now to Jonah thrice who beamed hugely and almost frighteningly at me.

"Cora I presume?" he teased me then looked up at the crowds of people as they laughed. Over their giggles I heard my own voice, snarky and natural, hearing it as if I weren't saying it respond.

"Yes, Jonah I would presume?"

The audience hollered even louder at this and I noticed Jonah Thrice' shoulders relax slightly as he laughed to. I managed to smile as well, a smirk more, but that seemed much easier to me. Jonah Thrice took my hand like a ladies hand and kissed it. What was happening?

"Ladies and Gentlemen of District 4, your first Tribute to honor you in the 52nd Hunger Games, Cora Gil!"

There was applause, Jonah Thrice smiled at me, I nodded back. If he let go of me thought surely I might faint. He seemed to understand this also, no one had shouted to be a volunteer, he of course asked the crowd himself when they settled down, but I knew, he knew no one was going to answer his question. Gingerly he slowly began to loosen his grip on me making sure I was stable- I'm sure it would look horrible should I actually faint- and judging I was secure enough finally let go. I felt very alone then. So disgustingly alone as I stared at the endless dots of people who stared back at me. Judging me, studying me, maybe some even recognizing me. And the surviving Victors behind me. I knew what they looked like. Stony faced. Already realizing I was no Victor. I was as dead as Constantine. My hands did not tremble now but shook. I tried to remember the peacekeepers determined nod, his steady hand, and maintained, not a smile, but what I hoped was a strong face, a quite confident face. Jonah was talking and after a moment of silence I realized he had called the male Tributes name. I snapped my head slightly and looked to a screen to my right. I glazed over the one viewing Jonah Thrice and me standing together on the stage, not but three feet apart, and found the one reading a name. Fausto Gloss. I had never heard it before. I thought maybe this was at lest fortunate. Once- I recalled this from the back of my mind- I had heard from my grandmother that she had witnessed a Huger Games where a brother and sister had to fight against each other as Tributes for their district. I had no siblings but I had cousins. And male friends of course. Fausto Gloss was much quicker to stand then I had been. I watched him first appear, a speck across the crowd of people, then moved my eyes to the screen. It had not been four seconds that I had been studying his week little frame, his boney arms, his scrawny legs, that a voice in the silence boomed up loudly over the crowd.

"I volunteer as Tribute for District 4"

Instantly the cameras snapped away from Fausto Gloss and, after a second of searching, found an older boy standing alone in the crowd. He was much closer to the stage then I had been and in a couple of seconds was shaking away the peacekeeper assisting hand and joining Jonah thrice and me on the stage.

"Wonderful!" our host proclaimed, this time in what seemed to be true delight. The boy was very broad, in the shoulders and in the chest as I could see by his flattering cut shirt. His neck was thick and his lips were extremely full. I noticed the cords of mussel in his calves as he climbed the stairs to meet us. In some very small quiet part of the back of my mind I managed to voice a sarcastic "of course". Not only had there only been a volunteer for the males but this one (like most) was built like an ox. I thought he might be able to throw both Jonah Thrice and myself off the stage in one graceful swipe.

"Wonderful, wonderful", Jonah Thrice repeated again shaking the boys hand and slapping his shoulder proudly. If the cameras were showing me I assumingly looked disgusted as I glared at the two of them.

"And what is your name young man?"

"Roman Price, sir"

"Ah yes, yes strong name I assure you and not so far from another strong sure name may I add. Thrice, Price, you gotta love it folks."

The crowd cheered happily, laughing along. Roman offered a small forced smile. I managed a twitch of my lips.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, of District 4, your final Tribute to honor you in the 52nd Hunger Games, Roman Price"

The clapping and whistling and overall praise Roman received was, if not deafening, absurd. There were chants and hollers of "ROMAN, ROMAN, ROMAN" throughout the Justice Building. All he managed was a nod and a piercing look with his eyes as he watched the crowds worship him.

"Your two Tributes Cora Gil and Roman Price!"

They cheered and clapped I even heard a few lines of "CORA GIL!" before it was eaten up by the rest of the applause, but this did not settle me. I was feeling even more white, pale and weak. My face bounced around the screens as I stared at them. Some showed me live, my eyes again blazing against my papery face, others of me sporting what appeared a mischievous smirk from minutes ago, another of my reaction, cynical and cautious, when Roman volunteered. Roman of course had his own shoots playing majestically next to mine. Him volunteering, his confident nod, his present fierce expression. Jonah waved at us to gain our attention and gestured for us to shake hands. I felt wobbly but found myself matching Romans smooth stride towards me. He looked at me then, as we faced each other hands moving in to shake, and I saw his eyes deadly. His jaw was clenched and his brow was knit. I could then feel the strength he portrayed his handshake, nothing purposely painful, no just steady power like a strong current. And he watching me as well so I did the only thing that had always won for me against my mother's impatience, my teacher's annoyance, my friends rage, the peacekeepers watch. I smirked, unimpressed. I saw him knit his brow deeper, surprised, but then we'd let go and no one, even though they had been watching the event from their screens, witnessed the message that had gone between us. We were rivals now. And at least one of us now was unsure who had a chance of coming home.

After that Jonah ushered us though a door and deeper into the Justice Building, a place I had never been. I recoiled from any possible closeness to Roman, distancing myself as far as him as possible, slightly disgusted by him. He walked on, unfazed, serious. Jonah Thrice was speaking but I wasn't listening I felt dizzy and full of hate towards Roman. I stumbled slightly through the hallway and saw Jonah Thrice watching me judgingly. I thought maybe then I'd shot him a simple frown back. Whatever it was it got him to look away. He ushered me into a room. Now out of the eye of all of my District I felt a certain strength I had been resorting on, the strength of the peacekeeper, leave my body, slowly yet sufficiently. Like the last emergency air Papa told me scuba tanks carried. My air was dwindling low. I couldn't breath very well now could I. It was moment before I noticed I was alone in the room. That didn't matter much, though a part of me was a peace to be away from Roman. I was sitting on a couch also. I hadn't noticed that much also. And now I was looking at my hands. I was watching them shake without my command. Shake shake shake shake. I'd move my fingers and for a moment they would stop but then, sure enough, they'd start back up. It must have been a while that I watched them. I didn't hear the door open.


	3. Chapter 3

"Cora!"  
I jumped and screamed at the shriek yelp. No it couldn't be-no. I saw my parents. Alone in the room, close to a closed door, looking at me. Papa moved towards me quickly I felt my arms reach out and in a second I was safe in his embrace, tightly wrapped around him with my head against his neck. I hadn't felt anything else but I did feel my tears coming.

"Papa! Papa!" I sobbed over and over again. I remembered as a very young child, I had been scolded by a teacher. I had been playing outside for too long, caught up in my make believe fairytales again, and had not heard her call the children inside. After a while when I realized I was alone, the play area unusually quiet, I had raced back to my classroom, the courtyard empty under the sun. Dread had filled me. The teacher had yanked my arm right back outside after I had swung the door open to join my classmates. Her yells had been heard by the kids in the classroom they were so loud. I remember her face, leaning down to the level of mine, close to me so I could see the anger in her eyes. Her words were painful and humiliating because I was a good girl and I had just been a little bit silly, not bad. There was one phrase I remember her saying, it had stuck with me through all my years, "A stupid girl Cora Gil! You're a stupid girl". The lose of faith in my being had been the worst part. I had gone home crying and Papa had held me just as he did now, with my arms curled up against his chest and his around my back. He had reassured me, he had comforted me. But now there was nothing he could say, there was nothing he could do to make the pain go away.

"Papa" my tears stained his color and rubbed uncomfortably across my face as I heaved and gasped.

I was going to die. I was going to die.

I had no words for death, no thought of it. I had never contemplated it, never understood what it meant. It meant the end. Like at the end of books. It meant no more.

I was going to die.

All I could do was sob and plea that it would not come, but I knew it would and after a gasping shaking breath, I quietly let my tears start to fade, tried to find the last comfort of my Papa's arm I would ever receive. This indication of my acceptance of fate made Papa hold me tighter against him. As if he could protect me from it like he could from words, or from sting rays, or from broken glass.

"It's ok Cora, it's going to be ok, we're going to be ok" I nodded against his neck and felt his hands on my shoulders as he pulled me away to look at my face.

We looked at each other a while. His face was red to, I saw the streaks of tears down his face which sealed my fate more drastically then 'Cora Gil' being called from the glass bowl ever would. My body started to shake on its own, Papa's big hands gripped me tightly. He was not crying any more, and even though I could feel the sharp painful lump high in my throat I refused to cry also.

"Cora", he looked at me very seriously, "You are smart and you are talented and you are beautiful" his thumb stroked his little girls arm, "and I love you".

"I love you to P-pa-pa. I will always love you"

He held me tightly against himself then and I shut my eyes very tight trying to lose myself in the safety of his arms but unable to. In a matter of seconds he was pulling me away again.

"Cora"

It was Mama now. She sat poised and tall on the other side of me, her ankles crossed and her makeup spotless. I looked at her with my wet face, red from sobbing, and suddenly felt very naked. I didn't want her to see me like this for the last time. She awkwardly placed her hand on my knee and when she saw that I didn't shift away, she moved closer.

"You must remember to-to be polite and to dress well. To make a good impression on the very wealthy sponsors so they can help you."

I only nodded.

"Don't forget to watch your tongue, these people have been honoring the Games far longer with their presence then you have so you listen to them ok?"

"Yes…"

"You, you will be fine"

The lie was so present on her face, so easily readable I felt myself fill with disgust at her. Could she not even, for this one time, try to be there for her daughter, for her dying daughter? She seemed to read this off my face.

"Cora I-"

Just then the doors banged open. I was the only of us three to jump.

"Times up, got to move"

"Please sir if I could just have-"

"No, no exceptions"

"I-"

"Sir", now three other peacekeepers had appeared beside the first and were walking towards Papa. I clung to his arm.

"No Papa, no don't leave me. Papa!" they were carrying him away now.

"Let go of me!" he shouted at them I ran to where they were forcing him out the door, the fourth peacekeeper held me back, I tried dodging around him to no avail, my limbs were weak, my head was fogged.

"Bien my god stop fighting them" my mother screeched, she through me one last bewildered, hurt look and then chased after the peacekeepers and my father. The door slammed shut, I shoved the peacekeeper off me and he left. My hands, they shook, not even moving the joints of my fingers could stop them now. After Mama and Papa I had other visitors but I couldn't remember anything they said. There were four girls from my choir at school who I went to the beach with and ate lunch with and called good friends, but that now all seemed so distant to me. They came in one by one talking, holding my hand, and crying. I just stared at the rug and contemplated my death. Would it be painful. Would I scream, or cry. What was death like. Was there an after-life. Or would I just be erased from the story of the earth. Like I was never here in the first place. I hardly noticed when one girl would leave another would come. A closer male friend of mine visited as well, a neighbor named Blasé who I had walked to school with every day since I was four. He held me against his chest like my father had and rambled about a memory of me, how valuable my friendship had been to him. I snuggled my forehead against his neck and he rubbed my back pleasantly. When he left he kissed me gently on the lips and squeezed my hand. I had never been kissed before, the irony of the moment hit me to hard afterwards and I only resurfaced from my thoughts to find my head placed gently on Grifth's shoulder. She was stroking my hair, not speaking, just listening.

"I saw you before they called my name," my voice was cracked and quiet, "I wanted to wave to you but they had already started. It seems silly now"

"No it doesn't"

"I think it was because I was distracted that it took me so long to registered Cora Gil was me"

"I wished I seen you too Cora"

"Before they called me?"

"Just in general"

It was silent a while.

"Blasé kissed me"

I could hear a soft smile in her voice.

"Did he now? Well we always knew he had a soft spot for you"

"Psh thanks for telling _me_" my voice a sarcastic whisper.

Her shoulder shook slightly as she let out a soft chuckle.

"I think we just figured you knew. You were always so clever" a another pause, "You're the cleverest person I know"

"Used to know"

She stroked my hair, pulling on the edges gently.

"I don't believe that Cora"

When the peacekeepers came to send her away she kissed the top of my forehead and smiled softly at me.

"Just so Blasé wouldn't be the only one" and then she left.

After that they were all gone.

Jonah Thrice came to collect me only ten or fifteen seconds after Grifith's departure.

"All ready to go? The car is ready, I've just collected Roman" he reached his hand out like he had done on stage and I stood, flatting out the skirt of my dress as I did. If he expected me to take his hand he didn't show any surprise when I didn't. I didn't shrink away from Roman this time but I didn't much look at him. Roman was strong and fit and determined and had all of District 4 on his side, he could do whatever he so pleased. As long as I wasn't part of it.

After a series of hallways Jonah Thrice led us outside. The shiny small car we were to ride to the train station in was completely surrounded by cameramen and interviewers. They snapped pictures and recorded us, hollered questions "Are you nervous?", "Are you confident?", "Who visited you?", "What do you feel about the other Tribute?" "Tributes?" I ignored them and looked down. I remembered the eyes of the first peacekeeper, my father's embrace, and the soothing of Grifiths words. These would be what kept me strong. This would be my lighthouse. I continued to look down. Jonah parted the way proclaiming things like:

"Now, now calm down you" or

"None of that till later" or

"We really must be going" or

"Excuse me sweetie, sorry we gotta get on going"

He drifted them aside rather easily with his claw hands and Roman and I made our way to the car. My fellow tribute had also remained quiet merely looking forward ignoring various questions like "What made you volunteer?" "What are you willing to stake?" and "What makes you so confident in your decision?" They weren't as concerned with me but there were still a steady flow of my own cameras. I saw myself on a screen. I looked annoyed. Understandable.

The car ride to the train was filled with Jonah Thrice's excited jabber and, like my personal meetings, me fading in and out of his conversation, more preoccupied with my thoughts then his. I caught some things, about the Capitol, about which Victors would be our mentors, about tonight's Tribute parade. These things seemed minor details to the grand scope of what I was to face. I had already realized I was going to die. Why didn't they just get to The Games, everything else was just for show. Like an aquarium, like a horse race. I looked out the window. We boarded the train with assistance of some peacekeepers and, to my pleasant surprise, no cameras. They must not have been allowed past some point. Whatever the reason I was grateful.


	4. Chapter 4

Boarding the train was like boarding another world. I myself had had my fair share of well dressed dinners and the fineries of life but this, this one train easily surpassed every aspect of my "wealthy" experiences put to together. This must have been what Kings and Queens lived like, the ones from my secret history book. They had said the Palace of Versailles was the most extravagant thing seen for countries around when it had been built in the late eighteenth century. This was my Palace of Versailles. The whole train seemed to be dancing in gold. The wallpaper a light yellow, the sofas a fabric I had never touched in a color I had never quite seen, lighter then the mustard I had on some cooked fish, but darker then the sand. There was a chandelier over the dining table. Indigent designs and details flowered the chairs and rugs. Gold trimmed everything. Jonah must have seen the looks on our faces.

"Fabulous isn't it?" he chuckled and poured himself some ice and then a brown liquid I assumed was alcohol, he swirled it together and smiled.

"You'll get used to it"

Roman didn't look as impressed as me but he did trail his fingers softly against the table cloth. I wondered from what kind of background he had come from to not be fazed by such beauty as was in this single room. It must have been Mercado. Jonah Thrice certainly was used to it. He threw himself on a tanned yellow sofa, a lobster in the sand, and twirled his drink around eventually gesturing to Roman with it.

"So, a volunteer huh? Been a while since we had one from District 4, what two years? And look at you", he smiled contently. So was he just going to ignore me then? Was I absolutely nothing? I could feel the sharp aching pain in my chest and throat swelling inside of me again but I refused to let it control me. I swallowed hard and looked down at the table. So I really had no chance did I? Id known it, but now so did Jonah Thrice. All of Panem knew it, all they had to do was watch me on their screens next to Roman, compared to their Tributes. I swallowed again. That was fine. I didn't need them and their false smiles, like Mama's, and their "reassuring" words. 'You'll be fine Cora' they'd say 'I'm certain you'll do fine' but they wouldn't believe it, and neither did I. I glared at the fireplace, the train was starting, and I didn't need anyone now but me. That's all I had anyway right? I was alone. I forced myself to not cry, blinked and took a deep breath. And then another. After a few moments I felt better. I sat opposite to Jonah Thrice in the cushioned chair next to Roman, who was now speaking in a low serious tone. Something about a school, another thing about an axe. His voice was so low it sounded more like a rumble, it was ironically soothing. After a while Jonah Thrice turned to me.

"Cora I presuming", he teased again, "You're awfully quiet" he took a sip of his drink. I snorted to myself and looked at him.

"Yes _that's_ it" I answered sarcastically, he didn't seem to understand and after a moment when he realized I wasn't going o explain he sat up in his seat a little straighter, as if uncomfortable, and addressed me again. I watched him do this.

"So…Cora, any surprises I might find coming my way? Deadly with a spear, maybe good at archery" he made a little motion with his hands and I let out a sigh.

"I think we both know the answer to that question" I replied quietly and looked out the window. We were moving very quickly now, I felt that I should be feeling some kind of motion sickness like I did on exceptionally windy days at sea, but I could hardly feel a thing. The natural oaks, palm trees and other wildlife of District 4 passed in a blur outside the window. I was leaving my home. I would never return here again. My chest felt hollow, only the painful lump to fill it. After a pause Jonah Thrice started again.

"Well I'll just go get your mentors like I said in the car Roman will be working with Dabir, winner of the 48th Hunger Games. Mags, the female Victor, usually works with the female Tribute but this year it has been decided that, you Cora, will be assigned to Ezra winner of the 33rd Hunger Games. You'll know that each Victor has honored Panem and especially District 4 so I don't think I'll have to tell you two to mind your manors and listen to absolutely everything they say. Remember they had been in your shows once before also. Excited and nervous-" from the corner of my eye I saw him look at me, "-so they understand your position far more then any others", he stood and briskly walked his way around the sofa and into another compartment, the door sliding automatically behind him. It was just Roman and me then left together. I didn't feel threatened physically like I had after the Reaping but I shifted myself to the outside of my chair, as far away from him as possible. I didn't want much to be around him. He was a constant reminder of my position in life. As if he himself symbolized death. He looked straight ahead, unmoving, just as he had with the interviewers and in the car. I wondered vaguely what he was thinking, if he even paid a second of his time to concern himself over me as an opponent. I doubted it. Just then I heard the door open to our compartment and footsteps fall into place, Jonah led the other two men, one older, the other slightly younger, through the archway and too us. I recognized them, especially the younger one who all of District 4 had celebrated over just four years ago when he won the 48th Games. There had been parades in all the villages for weeks. Dabir Klem! Dabir Klem! Our district had been given a surplus of food; we had danced in the streets for hours. That seemed very far off to me now. He was already shaking Romans hand, speaking in whispered tones, I saw him shoot me a cynical look. It was odd seeing him in person. He looked much older, more like thirty then twenty-one. Still handsome, his dark blue hair curling over his tan skin. He had no tattoos, no piercings. He, besides his hair, looked natural. He and Roman announced they would be discussing strategies in another compartment. The suspicious look Dabir kept throwing at me made me feel, surprisingly, much better. At least someone saw me as a threat. I noticed before he left though Dabir and Ezra made eye contact and a look was passed between them. I didn't quite understand it but they both nodded to each other and then it was just Jonah Thrice, Ezra, and me together alone. Quiet. I felt awkward.

"Jonah", Ezra spoke softly, Jonah beamed at him," why don't you call it a night, I heard they are serving some excellent lamb for room service tonight, your favorite if I do recall correctly"

It was obvious but not harsh the way Ezra had requested Jonah Thrice to leave. I watched Jonah's smile falter slightly but he was up and moving in a second.

"Yes, yes of course I am rather tired. Been a long day, you know how it is the Reaping and all. Need a good nights rest before the parade tomorrow!" he scurried away. A lobster retreating to its little cave. I watched him go and then turned my eyes to Ezra. We were alone.

Ezra, like I was starting to notice most of the Victors were, was very attractive as well. He was almost angelic looking. His body had gone slightly soft after the Games and hung over his belt buckle an inch or so. His face, cushioned with softness, looked childlike. His eyes were blue and large and his hair was a light blond and gelled into around ten pointed spikes around his head. Despite the harsh hairstyle and electric blue clothing he still remained looking like a seventeen year old school boy instead of a deadly thirty-two year old Victor. He pulled up a chair and looked at me with squinted eyes. He had an earing in his left ear. It was gold.

"How are you", he asked this seriously as if my answer would determine a great deal about me. I wasn't sure at all what I expected. He had his elbows on his knees. I was sitting with my legs crossed.

"Doesn't really matter does it?" I snorted a looked away, out the window were the trees and wild brush were still wiping past.

"Stop that" he responded.

I looked at him, he had not changed his posture and was still staring at me intently. I felt slightly uncomfortable but more annoyed at him.

"Stop what? Accepting my short-lived fate? Coming to terms with my honorable death?"

He looked at me disgusted.

"Listen to me once Cora Gil because I will not repeat myself for you ok? I am only willing to put in as much effort into this as you are willing to-"

"Oh please do not give me that-"

He stood up suddenly, sharply. I jumped in my seat, my heart was racing. I had definitely not expected this. His cold eyes and his baby face now stared down at me harshly.

"Don't ever interrupt me again. Understand?" I didn't respond and he carried on, "You do not understand how many times I have looked at little things like you and seen them accept their 'fate' and completely give up on themselves. Ultimately that is what kills them. You hear? Don't give me this pity party 'I'm not going to care because I'm going to die anyway' sob story all right because I have been right where you have before. I have been sitting in this exact train over twenty times traveling to the Capitol and one of those I thought I never come back from. You may think you've got in all straight in your head but let me tell you something _Cora Gil_. There is absolutely nothing you can do without me. Nothing. Not in the arena and not in the Capitol. And if you're thinking you might as well give up and die a pathetic death in that arena then you've already lost my respect and my service. Think about that alright? Think about that."

He turned around and went to strut out but I sprang up now also and shouted after him. How dare he. How dare he accuse me and then simply walk away. He didn't know me, I had never met him before in my life!

"Oh so that how you get all of your Tributes attention huh? A little lecture? Screaming in their faces when they've been sacrificed that very day. Aren't you just a regular fuzzy duzzy. Do you even remember? Remember what it's like?" my voice is repulsed, I can feel my entire body shaking in rage.

"Your acceptance of your death makes you weak", he paused but did not turn around.

"Oh!", I just about turned red, I wanted to slap him, to kick him, to set him on fire and watch his body explode! "Oh! I'm weak? I'm weak? Do you know what I did today _Ezra_? Do you know what happened? I was ripped from my entire life. From my school and my house and my books and my friends and I was thrown into a room and given three minutes to tell my Papa why I loved him and I had to watch as he cried for me. I was forced on a train _Ezra_, I was driven out of my home, my District. We are out of it now. I am never going back there again. I will never see them again, not my Papa, not my friends, I'll never read by books again or swim in the ocean! Ever again!" I was so mad and screaming so loud I would not doubt it if every single person on this train could hear me. I couldn't see anything I was so angry. Ezra snorted.

"Oh and poor you Cora. What a sad story" his mock sympathy stabbed into me. His baby eyes rolled in annoyance at me. I forced myself to take a breath.

"Yes but it's my story. That's what no one understands. Its my story and my life I had to leave behind" the rage I had felt in that one heated moment was now draining out of me leaving me breathless and exhausted. I slumped down in my seat and held my arms against my chest. Ezra was in font of me when I regained my vision as well as my caring. He was looking at me again. Sitting down as he had before the yelling had begun. It made me question if the yelling had even happened. After a moment he spoke again. His words were still sharp.

"I can't work with you if you insist you will be the pawn of the Capitol and die in the arena" I wasn't sure what he meant but I was tired and frustrated with him.

"Then don't work with me" I snapped, "I'm alone whether you were to help me or not"

"Unfortunately I have no other choice but to help you"

I snorted.

"Just your luck, I'm sure you'd have liked to have mentored Roman or there in the other room. He's probably already heard all of this and is taking notes" I'm annoyed now at myself being so upset. I grit my teeth together in frustration.

"No the walls are padded, no sound can be heard in between cars"

I'm surprised at this slightly and admit it does make me feel slightly better. Ezra is still sitting in front of me though, thinking I'm weak and stupid though so, of course, it doesn't help much. It is quiet for some time as we both think. I break the silence.

"I want you to be perfectly honest with me Ezra ok? Even if you don't do anything else at least tell me truthfully what chance I have in this. I'm tired of people lying to me, saying I'll be fine"

Ezra considers this for a moment and then takes a breath looking and speaking professionally, as a third party outsider.

"You being a short and small of stature female as well as coming from a descent family, as I can tell by your clothes and weight, tied together with you having absolutely no means to defend yourself not to mention be on the offensive of any attack gives you close to zero chance of making it out alive."

I close my eyes as I hear the last of Ezra's words and take a deep sigh. Finally, the truth. I feel it liberate me, set me free. I sigh again.

"Thank you Ezra, I appreciate your honesty, I think I will retire now. I don't think I will need any more of your mentoring tonight. As enlightening as it was" I stand he remains seated.

"I _will_ be continue your mentoring tomorrow"

"I hope you will, the last thing I want to do with my death in the arena is fulfill the space of a pawn"

I'm walking out the door to find someone to assist me to my room when I hear Ezra mumble something behind me. I can't make it out though and follow a young man dressed in red to a door opening it to cry for the last time for my fate.


	5. Chapter 5

I had read many stories in which characters often woke up in a strange location and have completely forgotten, if only for a moment, where they are. They cry out in confusion only to realize bitterly their current situation. I did not experience this. I awoke lying curled in a ball of beautiful dark purple covers. I face in a feather filled pillow and my feet tucked under myself. The view of my reality seemed distorted under the covers of my designated rooms bed. I felt safer. The feeling completely disappeared once I stood up, letting the covers fall around my feet. I was District 4's Tribute for the Hunger Games. I was competing against Roman and twenty-two others to win the chance to live again and I was almost certainly going to die. I stood holding my arms against my chest and closing my eyes. I took a deep breath. This had to stop. I had to stop feeling so betrayed, so innocent to the cruelty of my situation. I had to stop, and I hated to admit it to myself, being so incredibly weak. Ezra was right. I laughed to myself bitterly. Of course he was right. I dropped my hands from where they had been comforting my arms and clenched my fists together. I was all I had. It was just me. And I'd be damned if The Games took that away from me as well. No, I would not lose myself, my strength and my determination, no one could take that away from me and as long as I had that I still had myself to rely on. Now that I thought about it maybe that's all I had ever had. The comfort of home and my Papa and the familiarly of my surrounding had perhaps kept this from me all along. In the end everyone only truly had themselves and no one else to catch their hand on their journey. I hugged myself again but this time it was not out of fear, but out of hope. A twisted and sad string of hope that filled my trains compartment and bloomed in my chest. Not that I would live, a hope for something greater, something more personal. I was trying to put a name to it when a loud and harsh bang came from my door. I jumped a little, staring at it for a moment. Had something fallen? But then the knock came again and following that, a voice.

"Get up!, " it was Ezra. I glared at him through the door and spat back in his own tone.

"Go away!"

"No, it's breakfast time, the train will be at the Capitol in less then an hour and we need to go over things before and you need to eat" he banged on the door again, for no other reason it seemed then to annoy me. I made a face at him, even though I knew he couldn't see it at least made me feel a little better. I gathered my crumpled dress from the floor and smoothed out its wrinkles. There were others things I could wear of course. I was wearing the trains silk pajamas right now, but the thought rubbed off on me wrong. Wear their clothes, play their Game, die for their entertainment. It all felt the same, like how I had felt when Mama had tried to get me to wear her fancy clothes only yesterday before the Reaping. No I hated those clothes and quiet frankly I was beginning to truly hate the Capitol. I would not dress like I lived there. I would not wear the clothes they had given me to wear, as if they owned me. I removed my silk shirt and prepared to put on the lacy dress I had worn yesterday.

Ezra hadn't heard an answer from me yet and he yelled through the door again at the silence he found from the other side.

"If you refuse to come out we can knock down the door, your lock won't save you from that"

I stared at the wall, half insulted.

"Oh please!" I spat at him, "I'll be out in five minutes"

He banged on the door one last time, as if to signal his departure, and then I could hear his footsteps padding on the plush carpet of the train. I slipped my dress back on and undid the braids I had had in my hair and slept in from yesterday. They made my hair even wavier and I twisted two strands from he front and tied them securely together keeping the out of my eyes. That was the last thing I needed. I left my room to find the same servant who had escorted me to my room last night standing outside my room. I wondered vaguely if he had heard the encounter with Ezra and me. Probably.

"Do you know where the breakfast is being served?" I asked politely, he merely nodded and made a gesture for me to follow him. It ended up being in the same room I had met Ezra in the night before. I felt foolish for a moment but quietly thanked the servant entered the room. Roman and Debir were already seated at the table with Ezra and Jonah. I was slightly surprised that they would be eating with Ezra and me. Hadn't my mentor said he needed to discuss some things with me? Debir had jumped right on the opportunity to exclude me from any kind of mentoring he had with Roman, I wondered why Ezra wasn't taking the same precaution. When I entered the room the small chatter of Debir's anxious voice faltered slightly as he eyed me cautiously again. I ignored him as best I could and took my seat, the only, next to Roman. Ezra, who sat across from me, quickly dropped his discussion with Jonah and looked to me.

"I didn't know I was so late to breakfast, I'm sorry" I addressed the table expressionless. Ezra snorted and poured himself some coffee, but Jonah seemed absolutely delighted with my apology. I was unsure if he chose to ignore my blatant lack of actual concern or if he simply did not hear it. Whatever it was he beamed widely, like he seemed so inclined to do.

"Oh of course not dearie, we all just got here moments ago, Ezra himself couldn't have been sitting there for more then two minutes." He laughed carelessly and buttered some toast. He wasn't wearing his lobster outfit today which was, of course, slightly upsetting as I had grown so fond of it but was now clad in a purple as deep as my sheets had been in my compartment. He also had a hat on, it sat loosely of his dark hair making his head seem much smaller then it actually was.

"Well next time I do hope you will be more considerate on time" Ezra smiled meanly at me. I wasn't even sure how he managed to do this but the obvious annoyance in me was clearly present on his face.

"Of course" I responded and smiled right back. Roman and Debir watched the encounter with blank expressions. It was silent for a moment scanned the table and picked up a light piece of twisted bread. At least I thought it was bread, it was the most recognizable thing on the table to me. Everything else seemed unnaturally colorful and smelled too strong. I wasn't even sure, besides coffee, what other liquids were in the cups in front of me. It was obvious that Debir was uncomfortable with my presence. I just kept on ignoring him, that was his problem. Ezra broke the silence by gesturing to me with the hand he held his coffee mug in.

"You need to eat more", he stated bluntly. I popped a piece of bread in my mouth it was surprisingly light.

"I don't recognize any of the other foods", I pointed to a pink think splayed out on a platter, "I honestly don't even know what that thing is."

Ezra's face showed little more then impatience, and maybe the ever-present annoyance.

"I don't care _what_ you eat as long as you eat an abundant amount of it. I want you to gain at least seven pounds, extra fat for your body to rely on while you're in the games. And Debir-,"he turned to his fellow Victor, I was slightly surprised when he looked back obediently, curiously, "-remember your Tribute comes before anything else right now. There are plenty of things you can discuss without giving away any secrets about him. Not everything has to be in hiding."

I was slightly offended by the sudden soft and encouraging tone Ezra had taken once addressing Debir. There had never been a single sound uttered to me in such an understanding voice when he talked with me. And shouldn't he follow his own advice, _I _should be the one he was focusing on not Debir. I piled three more twisted bread things one my plate as well as poking at the pink lumpy thing in the center of the table.

"Of course Ezra, thank you" I was even more disgusted with Debir's obedient tone. I was half certain that if I looked up at them they would be starring into each others eyes lovingly. I made a face as I tried to figure out how to cut the pink hing onto my plate. Jonah laughed brilliantly as if a funny joke had been told.

"You see that you two?" he chuckled looking to Roman and me, "old habits certainly die hard don't they? Ezra was Debir's mentor when he was a Tribute four years ago" he continued to giggle. Debir looked at Jonah now, his face was deadly and serious under his navy blue hair.

"Laugh all you want Jonah, I hardly doubt you will ever understand the loyalty I have for Ezra. Had it not been for him I'd be in a box, frostbitten to death with an axe in my side." I was surprised at the seriousness of Debir's voice. The quiet deadly quality with which he spoke while looking up at Jonah fiercely, "I only hope I can save an innocent life as he saved mine"

Jonah's expression darkened considerably then and, embarrassed, he looked down at the table and shoved some kind of yellow leafy thing into his mouth. The silence that followed was slightly awkward. I looked up at Ezra, serious and still annoyed, and tried to see a man who would be responsible for my life, who, say I survived, would be the sole reason for my victory. It was difficult.

"Ezra", this time it was Roman talking, his voice low and serious, a rumble compared to the rest of us. Ezra only raised his eyebrows to show he was listening, he did not seemed threatened by Roman at all like Debir and been towards me, Roman continued, "who was your was your mentor?"

I looked up at Ezra awaiting his answer as well, both Mags and Kelby, the two other District 4 where older then Ezra, Kelby perhaps only by five or six years, I wasn't sure how old Mags was but she was perhaps one of the oldest Victor around, maybe forty-five to fifty.

"It was Mags", Ezra says nodding, as if to himself, "she hadn't been working very well with the past couple of female Tributes the of Games before me so her and Kelby switched and she was my mentor."

His face didn't show any emotion but I could hear the slightest tone of admiration in his voice. I swallowed and then spoke to him as well.

"Kelby hasn't had any of his Tributes survive?"

Ezra frowned at me in annoyance as if I had offended him.

"The quality and work of a mentor is not always reflected in their assigned Tribute, Cora" he answered my question as if I were stupid and a barbarian for asking. I myself frowned.

"It was only a question"

It was obvious at this point that Ezra hated me, especially as I sat directly across from his star Tribute who appeared to be gladly willing to shield Ezra from an explosion with his own flesh. Jonah piped up again.

"I met Kelby last year, good man" he seemed to not be willing to risk another carefree statement and stopped there. I was done with my bread at this point and feeling very full. There was still the pink thing left of my plate though and I poked it with my fork unsure of how to approach eating it and slightly horrified as to what it would taste like. If I had to guess I'd say was meat but the truth of the matter was I was not really sure. I poked it again. Roman leaned in next to me slightly and I could hear his quiet low voice.

"Try it, it's good" he whispered though it was obvious in the silence of the room everyone heard him. I shifted away from him and bitterly mumbled to myself just _how_ good I thought it would be. After a second Ezra sighed at me as if I where a child.

"Cora just eat the sanglier"

"I'm getting to it" I snapped back and decided to cut the _sanglier_ with a fork. From the texture and toughness I was certain it was meat and hesitantly placed it on my tongue. I was surprised when a burst of sweetness rushed through me mouth. I had never tasted a meat so incredibly sugary tasting. After Ezra could see I was on my way to taking another bite he addressed me on his own, then in a moment Debir and Roman also continued their previous discussion as well.

"You know once we get to the Capitol you will meet with your stylist and team, right? They will dress you for the parade tonight as well as almost every other function leading up to the Games." I nodded in response.

"Have you met her before?" when he seemed unsure of whom I was talking about I clarified, "My stylist?"

Ezra smirked and took a bite of a blue sort of fruit.

"Yes I have, she is…", he seemed to be trying to find words, "a character. It will be interesting to see how you two interact"

I was unsure of what he meant by this and frowned in confusion for a moment.

"Will she dislike me also?"

Ezra shrugged.

"We'll see"

This was an annoying statement because it seemed a though my mentor was toying me knowledge I didn't have. Instead of guiding me I only felt confused and targeted in his presence. It didn't matter much of what Ezra said in the end though anyway. I was the one who would be playing the Games, and ultimately it was going to be my advice I was going to take.

"What about the Games?" I asked a little more cautiously.

"What about them?" he was chewing through a piece of his fruit.

I frowned.

"What is your advice? How should I approach them? How should I gain sponsors"

Ezra smirked again at my questions and I was starting to feel more and more frustrated. I was asking for help, something I usually refrained from doing, and here he was mocking me.

"I thought you were set on dying"

I noticed Roman out of the corner of his eye cock his head listening to the two of us. I gritted my teeth in anger.

"No just quiet yet" I hissed at him. Ezra seemed, for the first time, satisfied with this answer, and nodded his head contently, the spikes of his hair stiffly staying uniform.

"Good," he made a casual gesture towards Roman that only I picked up, "but some plans are better kept in secret"

Had I thought the luxury of the train was impressive it was no match for the beauty of the Capitol as it started to appear in the horizon. This truly was Versailles. Buildings rose like the hills in books I had seen. Everything imaginable glimmered softly in the light from the sun as each skyscraper reached to out do one another. The skyline amazed me. Every single one of these buildings were twice as big was District 4's Justice Building. I understood slightly why people would dress in the way they did in Mercado, as if wanting to look like the Capitol people. Who would not want to be associated with such beauty? After a moment though of staring through the window I smirked to myself. Me, that was the answer, and whatever twenty-two other Tributes would be dead by the end of the month because of their games.

Our train was said to be one of the last ones to arrive at the Capitol, if only by a matter of minutes. I was not sure how they scheduled the Games in such a way as to create for punctual arrival time by all District Tributes as well as staggering the Reapings throughout the day. We were pretty far from the Capitol ourselves, our train ride taking over twelve hours from District 4, but there where much further districts, District 12 and 11 being the farthest away. I wondered when their Reaping took place. They had always looked the same when we'd watched them on our televisions back at home. I considered this for a moment. Funny, this year it would be me they watched back at home. Would they cry at my death? Loyally root for Roman after me? Would my parents? I was lost in thought until Ezra called for me to get ready for departure. We would be entering the city soon.

Nazneen was my stylist. I hated Nazneen. Before I even met her it was prevalent that the two of us would not get along. Like every other Tribute I was taken straight to meet my stylist team who would be "assisting" (a word chosen carefully by Ezra) me on my appearance for the rest of my time in the Capitol. I wasn't really sure what exactly the team would do. Just having entire _team _in itself for one person was slightly insulting in general but I tried to go into my District 4 "Cora Gil" room with a good attitude. It did not work out so well. Ezra in no way had prepared me for what they would do to me. There were three of them. Two men, a shorter stockier one who google glasses that made his eyes seem the size of tennis balls named Afet, and a taller graceful one who had pink thick dreadlocks tied together behind his back reflecting off his coco skin named Jemal. The girl was perhaps the youngest and, after awhile I realized, the least experienced of the three, her black hair was held in place by gold wires that made her look like a tribal princess from my History Book, her name was Lewa. They introduced themselves to me as I studied their outrageous little bodies. They looked like paints swirled together coming out with a color that was not really one secular color but something new and, in some cases, strange. I had seen people in Mercado who I thought looked outrageous but they didn't light a candle to my personal team of stylists. Ezra deserted me then. They had practically bowed at his feet (oh such a brave Victor, such a noble man, each of them had been rooting for him the entire time, I doubted they were old enough to have remembered his victory) and then Ezra, nodding graciously with patience he seemed to have for everyone but me, simply left. I was alone with those three _things_. It wasn't long before they were circling me and talking to each other.

"No, no it's too short, much to short that's not 'in' this season with Tributes"

"Look at her skin! It's so rough"

"Mmm uh-uh that's gotta go"

"Eyelashes aren't nearly long enough"

"We can cover these up right?"

"How much time do we have again?"

I was extremely offended. How could one person not be? I'd like to say that I am not a vain person but I can account for myself that I am definitely not ugly or practically deformed the way they spoke about me. I had a 'childish' type of prettiness to me and considered cute. Mostly my blond hair made me that way, as well and me being only 5'3 and curvy. People back at home had liked to do this thing where they'd play with my hair and feel as though I wouldn't mind. But I did, I didn't like being touched, it made me uncomfortable. So naturally after insulting me in front of my face they stripped me down naked and lathered me all up with their hands. I was mortified at first. Nakedness was not as big of an issue in District for where many restaurants and pubs welcome guests in merely their swimming clothes. We are a fishing district mind you with all of us being half dressed at one point or another. At the beach and near the water mostly but still that is enough for one not to be to bashful about much. This was much different as I had never met these and couldn't help but feel extremely violated as they touched my naked skin. They were gracious enough to give Lewa the job of moisturizing and working on my more feminine areas but the privacy was barley noticeable. They lotioned me, waxed me, exfoliated me, scrubbed me, and washed me. And that was merely the base layer of all the work that apparently needed to be done to me. They tried to talk to me at points but after my obvious pain and frustration at their impersonal and inconsiderate touch they stopped. We were two hours into it and they had just started my hair and nails. Afet was clipping and styling my toenails (an area of my body I had never even thought needed any attention) as Jemal gently washed my hair prepping it for some kind of dye. I would have been nervous about them staining it some insane color like blue or purple but they insisted, half annoyed at my lack of trust, that they only wanted to go 'one step lighter' to extenuate my 'natural blonde'. I was reluctant to let them do this and considered debating it with them but there was no point, I was in their clutches now, they had complete control over me. Lewa was mixing some chemicals, I only hoped she was experienced enough to be able to handle that job. I tried to concentrate on the gentleness of Jemal's hands and force myself to relax when the door opened suddenly. I ripped myself from their grasps where I had been sprawled out naked on a table and threw my limbs around my body to cover myself. Afet hissed in distaste.

"I was just on the first layer! Now I'll have to start from the beginning" he grumbled. My eyes had adjusted to the harsh light of stylist that were pointed on me as if I were in an operation room and I had to blink to make out who now stood over me. I would die if it were Ezra, or maybe Roman. Seeing me naked and unprotected even by clothes. It was neither of them. What stood before me now was a young and very beautiful woman. Even with her ridiculous amounts of makeup and dyed silver hair her beauty was eminent. She looked down at me, I couldn't make out her facial expression.

"Lay back down and stop looking so ridiculous, honestly it is just a body" her voice was so high and so baby-like I had to actually watch her mouth move to make sure it was her speaking. It was. I hated her already who ever she was.

"Nazneen!" Lewa squealed from behind me somewhere behind me, "we weren't expecting you so early!"

Nazneen, of coarse. Her silver hair was pulled back high off of her soft and elegant face. I was surprised that, besides her hair and what appeared to be a dragon tattoo that covered her entire left side, there were no other unnatural arrangements to her body. I didn't think she had any make up on either. Her lips formed a hard line as she stared down at me. I was purposely still covering my breasts with my hands, this seemed to annoy her.

"I said stop that" she quickly grabbed my arms and thrust them down at my sides. I had not even been in the same room with her for five minutes and already she was yelling. First Ezra and now Nazneen, both people who were supposed to be helping me hated me. My frustration and anger at this injustice burned inside of me. At least Ezra had a reason to dislike me, what had I ever done to Nazneen? Surely I wasn't _that_ ugly. Her hands were like iron on my arms.

"_Excuse_ me!" I yelped hotly. Now I sat up so I could see her face on. She was very tall, I doubted if I would come up to her shoulder standing up. Nazneen sniffed and then completely ignored me. Was she always like this, I was starting to appreciate Lewa, Jemal, and Afet much more now on their own.

"I wont be staying long" she was circling me gracefully, the garments of her long skirt flowing behind her, "I only wanted to see if you had made much progress, evidently she will need more work then I had expected," she looked at me then, "lay _down_ will you." I glared at her. It seemed suddenly that everyone in here in the Capitol must despise me. What had I done? Was it my presence at the Reaping? Yes I had been slow to be called up, surely that was not a good thing, but was it enough to make someone I didn't even know _hate_ me? I didn't think so. I gritted my teeth decided I would simply hate her back. Her baby voice stuck in my head like the clamor of seagulls. Nazneen continued to circle me, she snapped at Jemal.

"What is that you're doing?'' she voice was sharp, Jemal took his time to answer her though. Obviously he wasn't as easy to please as Lewa, his voice was slow and calm.

"We are applying the dye to her hair and making it a shade lighter, perhaps adding low lights afterwards." He kept on massaging my hair with his gentle fingers and I decided that just as I hated Nazneen I now like Jemal. He knew how to quietly stand up for himself and I admired that. Nazneen hissed at him.

"You will do well to hurry her up, you were supposed to have her hair done and set by now. And her nails? Really you're staring them now?" her disgust was prevalent. Without waiting for Jemal or Afet to respond she sailed out of the room then shouting her last words from behind her.

"I want her ready to be dressed in four hours. Four horus!" the slam from the door was the only thing she left behind, for a moment the four of us were silent until my whisper broke it.

"Great, now my stylist hates me also" it wasn't pitiful but very angry, as if I were spitting the words. This seemed all the three of them needed to repair the annoyed feelings they had had for before. Afet was the first to answer.

"I have never seen her like that. Yes she was never the kindest person to have talked to but my dear! Never so snip snip snippy!"

From the corner of my eye I saw Lewa nod violently, then she touched my shoulder in comfort.

"Honestly for one second there I was scared for you!"

That made her and After laugh gaily, even I smiled slightly. Afet continued at my nails diligently.

"Must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, actually I heard-" he leaned in more to my feet as if he were telling them a secret,"-no, no I possibly couldn't tell it. I wasn't even supposed to have heard it" and he scrapped my toenails, smiling at the suspense. Lewa let out an excited little yelp.

"Oh! Afet no! You must tell us now!"

"No, no! I couldn't possibly!"

I couldn't help but smirk, entertained by their excited whispering, as if that were to shield Jemal and me from hearing their conversation.

"Afet! Afet! Please!" Lewa begged, she handed something to Jemal who addressed Afet, a quiet confidence in his voice.

"We all know, Afet that this secret will eventually get spread from your lips. You should tell Lewa now and spare her the agony"

I tilted my head so I could look at him. His coco skin shone in the light of the lamps. I smiled at him as he looked at Afet.

"Oh well _fine_!", and he took a very dramatic pause before continuing, "Nazneen has had us all, this of course excluding you Cora, everyone in the team I mean, down-graded _permanently_!"

Lewa gasped and I heard something drop. I hoped this was not the dye they would be applying to my hair. Even Jemal stopped massaging my head for a moment as he considered this.

"No!" Lewa seemed to be shock.

"It's true, I heard Jonah telling it to her this morning. We are officially B listed" he didn't seem upset just oddly excited by idea of telling his teammates. I was confused though. I wondered for a moment I should refrain from asking as to let them have their privacy but in the end my curiosity won out.

"What does that mean? You've been down graded permanently?'' I thought perhaps they might refrain from telling me but Lewa seemed all but willing to elaborate on Afet's news.

"Well ", she started; I could feel her hands as well as Jemal's now coaxing at my hair, they must have begun applying the dye, "you see, as far as stylists and their teams go it is always, _always_ best to be working for the mentor of the most respected mentors Tribute in the Games. That mentor is usually the oldest Victor"

Afet picked up now from were Lewa left off, he sounded like he had explained this before.

"Which is Mags, always was and it always will be Mags, she has mentored both Kelby and Ezra as well as the winner of the 29th Hunger Games Jolee who died a few years back. She is highly respected and so always gets he first pick at stylists"

"Oh, I didn't know mentors got to pick"

I saw Afet nod violently.

"Oh yes! It is part of the strategy of coarse; each stylist has their own signature style that mentors either like or dislike. Mags has always requested Nazneene's team, even when she was just an assistant. And Nazeene came to the Capitol very young. Dearie she must have only been about-oh what would you say Jemal?"

Jemal thought this over a second.

"She was about seventeen, and she was working for the first times for Mags at the 35th Hunger Games"

Afet nodded.

"Yes I remember you were only about a year or two older then her yourself. Yes but Mags had always requested Nanzeen and after a while she became a head stylist , and the the three of us became her team"

Thy then smiled at each other sweetly. I smiled too even thought I wasn't quite sure why.

Afet continued after a moment as he selected a color for my toes, asking the opinion of his teammates first. They decided upon a grey blue.

"Since there are more then two mentors for District 4 the Victors always rotate who will mentor a Tribute. For a while only one of them would have the year off from the Games while the other two assisted their designated Tribute. This meant that every two years for almost eight years our team has not worked for the Games as we became something of Mags 'personal' stylists. Oh, there was one year what was it Lewa 39? 38?"

"No I think t was the 37th, the year right before Debir won that we were the stylists for Kelby out of his request. That was a year Mags wasn't mentoring"

"Yes that was it, 37th Hunger Games! That year Ezra was the other mentor. Mags didn't mind that we worked with Kelby at all. That's what we thought we were doing again this year, working for Ezra while Mags got her little break but it would appear not. She must not have requested us for next year or else there was no way she would have let Ezra have our team"

"What do you mean?"

Afet was squinting down at my toes in concentration applying the nail polish will precise hands, he continued to explain easily as he worked

"Well each team gets one year off every other year which usually means that a District will have about three styling teams at a time. They rotate whom will work just as the mentors do. We are working for Ezra this year and Mags will be mentoring next year while Nanzeene, it appears, this morning was told it was our groups turn to 'take off work' next year."

Jemal's low voice continued on for Afet.

"It is not necessarily an insult on our behave but it would be easy to see how Nazneene could have taken it that way. She was been working for Mags for about eighteen years, a great honor for someone of her age. And now she is not."

I considered this. It was amazing. There was an entire side of the Games I had never seen, a much more political side then just an arena and death. It was interesting but, honestly, it did not change my viewpoint on the Games much at all. In the end wasn't it still just a bunch of kids dying? Wasn't it still me who would be dying? I nodded to them.

"We thought we were helping with Ezra this year because he requested us but he must have just been assigned to our team if Mags let us drop. It'll be hard for Nanzeene to handle, she was always so proud to be associated with Mags."

"So she doesn't want to be working with Ezra?"

There was a moment of silence and I wondered if maybe they had just decided to stop talking to me but then Jemal answered sowly.

"It is not that Ezra is a mentor Nanzeene doesn't want to work with it is just that he is not Mags."

"Oh dearie," Afet sighed, I thought maybe he had made a mistake but when I shifted my head to look at him his ginormous eyes were on me, "look what we've done! Gotten her all upset that Nanzeene wont do her job right because of her demotion!"

Something along those lines…

Lewa gasped, she seemed to like to do this a lot.

"Oh no, no never!"

"You don't need to be worried Cora about her giving a an unhonorable effort, no matter what Nanzeene feels she does not let it get in the way of her work. I have encountered this first hand" Jemal's steady words echoed in the room. I nodded again and felt Lewa and Jemal going though each strand of hair, applying and rubbing the dyes into it. My stylist was, of course important; she would dictate how the sponsors would view me. And Ezra was even more crucial to my survival in and out of the Games, I would need his help more then any other persons. They were important yes but again it would not be them who would fight in the arena. No, that would be me alone. No matter what happened, them hating me, them betraying or forgetting about me, that would not stop anything that would happen in the arena, in the actual Games. I had complete control over that aspect. If every single other thing failed me and left me I still had my own strength to rely on. This soothed me and relaxed my body.

Jemal, Afet and Lewa continued to talk, about past Hunger Games they had participated as stylists in, about Nanzeene and about how beautiful I would look tonight. I listened and contributed as well. The whole atmosphere seemed much more relaxed after they had explained Nazneen to me, even comforted me in their own way, and I felt less and less uncomfortable around them. There were even rare moments when I would chuckle with them. After the four hours, in which they finished dying and drying my hair, as well as 'fixing up' the rest of my body Jemal led me to my dressing room in a thin silk robe. I felt stronger about having to face Nanzeene. At least now I knew that not everybody hated me, three people here actually like me. I might even have a chance of making sponsors like me also a very small back part of my brain thought. It was a light ray of hope and I stored the feeling in the back of my mind as Jemal took me to see my costume for the parade. I filled me with the feelings I associated with home and with safety. Maybe I could build my own little home, right here in my chest between the hollow of my ribs and the layers of my bones. I touched my hand to my collarbone and smiled softly to myself. This would be the place I would store home, like I'd stored my necklaces in my jewelry box back in District 4. Carefully placing them in and closing the lid of the box gently. I placed inside my chest Grifith's soft words, and then my fathers hug in the room after the Reaping. I thought of the peacekeeper who had given me the courage to face the crowd at District 4 and gently snugged his nod in next to the safety I had now that I had gained the support of my style team. My fingers were brushing my collarbone back and forth back and forth. I could feel my heart beat gathering warmth from my chest as we walked down empty bland halls


	6. Chapter 6

Suddenly out of the corner of my eye a flash appeared and, startled out of my previous reassuring thoughts, I whipped my head around. It was a couple walking parallel to Jamel and me. As I looked closer I realized that the man walking with the little pixie fairy creature next to him was Roman. I had nearly forgotten about him. He walked behind the little thing, looking giant and deadly as ever. He must have come from his own "Roman Price" personalized room as well for he sported the same blue silk robe I wore. I couldn't spot much of a difference in him, maybe his hair was slightly shorter, maybe his skin looked a little tanner, nothing drastic. I doubted they had to peel away his skin and scrub mercilessly at his pores. He and his team had probably laughed around in a circle and drunken their fancy drinks and eaten sanglier as they debated how he would go about killing his competitors in less then a week. Once again bested by the handsome and powerful Roman. I doubted I would live to see the day that I came out victor if ever a day existed. He noticed me then also and in between the rooms and walls that separated us there was always at least one quick hallway where we would catch a glimpse of each other. I had looked away after a while and assumed he had as well as he followed his pixie stylist to his own dressing room. When I was sure he was far enough away as not to over hear me in anyway I leaned into Jemal slightly.

"Did you see Roman just then?"

Jamel blinked and looked around slowly as we continued to walk.

"No I didn't but his dressing room right next to yours. I wouldn't be surprised is they are starting his makeup at about this time also"

I nodded and looked down at the floor thinking for a moment and then asked.

"I wont see any other competitors before the parade will I?"

Jamel shook his head and his pink dreadlocks swished heavily from across his back.

"No not unless you leave this compartment and go to the ones next door, but you aren't encouraged to do that"

It wasn't ten seconds before I piped up again.

"Do you and the other stylist teams ever get competitive. The ones within the same district?"

Jamel smiled to himself, his eyes twinkled and shone.

"You certainly ask a lot of questions don't you?"

I smirked then to myself. My mother had said things like this to me when I was younger. 'Why do you need to know why a banana has to be peeled' 'When will you ever use information on rocks in your life?' I had never really stopped asking these questions only would reclined from trying to get my answer from her. The history book in my basement had quenched my thirst for knowledge for a time but after I'd memorized it it had only left me more curious then I had been before. Now it was information about the Games that was suddenly interesting, clever of me.

"It is a perfectly plausible question Jamel"

We turned another corner.

"Of course, all of your questions are, there are just a vast amount of them"

I decided then that Jamel was a good person. I liked him, I thought he enjoyed me enough as well.

"Will you answer the question or not?"

He chuckled softly.

"No we are hardly ever competitive. Usually the two teams from each district work together the majority of the time, a team within a team, but never on the first day. That's when we have to focus on our own Tribute"

"Who is Roman's stylist?"

"His head stylist will be Hurit, accompanied by Otheo, Alina, and Tegan. I doubt if you will see much of his team but Hurit will be staying with you in your suite, as will Nanzeene."

I must have made a face because Jamel laughed again, this time from in his gut.

"I doubt she will do little more then nag, she wouldn't dare insult a Tribute, especially in front of her mentor"

We had arrived at my dressing room, Jamel opened the door for me and we both stepped inside a very wide and plain room. The walls were a mild yellowish gray and had no windows, it was possible that we were underground. All that filled the room was a hanger with a human sized bag hanging from it was well as a seat pushed off to the side accompanied by a very large black box. A few mirrors, only one full length one, coated the walls. I looked around again; Nanzeene was nowhere to be seen.

"I'll be starting your makeup" Jamel said and grabbing my hand led me toward the stool. I was surprised at first when he touched my me which, of course, was silly given the fact that just ten minutes ago he had been massaging moisturizing oil to my entire torso but still. I usually didn't like it when people touched me. Jamel's hands were warm and dry and I didn't mind too much.

"Where is Nanzeene?" I asked as he sat me down.

"She'll be here in a minute" he placed a strand of hair properly back in the dozens of rollers now crowned on my head and then simply pushed a button on the big black box. It opened, as if by magic, and formed four shelves in itself. I stared at it in surprise and then in shock as I realized it was completely filled with make up. Bottles and tubes and pencils and weird little metal things I eyed in doubt.

"All of that? That's all for me?"

"Don't sound so offended Cora, we wont be using all of it on you, mostly just this shelf" he pointed to the biggest shelf at the top.

Applying my make took almost as long 'fixing me up' had. Surprisingly enough I eventually grew to hate it much more as well. I greeted Afet and Lewa as they came to finish assisting Jamel. Nanzeene, unlike Jamel's statement, did not show up until I was completely done with my makeover. I hadn't been too worried about the excessive amounts of eyes shadow, liner, mascara, concealer, blush, toner, lip stick, gloss bronzer, and other little tubes of things I didn't know the names of but when Jamel pulled out a tuber ware of little glass orbs the size of quarters I began to be concerned.

"What is that?" I asked eyeing it suspiciously, he was now searching though his bag eventually pulling out a bottle of clear liquid glue. Afet and Lewa who were doing my hair smiled, I could see them through their position from the mirror.

"They are your scales of course" Afet beamed in excitement. I ended up with about thity flexible plastic circles of different degrees of blue covering my forhead and right side of my face.

"I look ridiculous! Jamel take them off please I look more like a disco ball then a fish!" I had cried out when he's applied the first few. The point had been lost as no one in my team of stylists had any idea what a disco ball was and I resigned to frowning in annoyance as they continued. Afet explained how it had been Jamel's idea to not just apply my dress as a costume but also my make up. The circles, my 'scales', grew lighter and lighter as they moved to the center of my face.

"We wanted them to be able to see your features while still making the scales very prominent. That's why we are only doing the right side and most of them are transparent anyway. The crowd recognizing you latter is essential to your success" Afet had now left Lewa to finish my hair, which was up in a high braided ponytail which hung loosely on my head. My hairline they decided looked best as I had done it for the Reaping with a braid running across the front of it. Loose strands purposely escaped my hairdo.

"It cant look harsh, it has to look-", Lewa closed her eyes and smiled softly searching for a correct phrase, "Like you have just come out of water. Beautiful but natural also"

"Is it very natural for humans to resemble fish?" I had tried to say it in an annoyed voice but I couldn't help but smirk at Lewa's goofy smile. She giggled lightly at me.

"Cora you have to stop looking so knowing all the time! I swear every time you smile I think you now some valuable secret about me" she continued to laugh lightly.

I cocked my head to the side.

Afet was starting to apply the bigger scales, the size of small sand dollars mixed in with quarter sized ones as well, to my right arm. They climbed all the way to my shoulder with a few spare ones dotting around my neck. They were dark blue and gold.

"They make me look like a Queen Angelfish" I mused after a while, when the scales had almost all dried, "Especially with my hair being so blond now"

"What do those look like?" Lewa asked curiously. I looked up at her reflected image in the mirror to see that she was very serious.

"Weren't you all born in District 4?" I asked very seriously. She smiled in a confused sort of way.

"Well no, no of course not. Jamel and Nanzeene were but that's only a coincidence as for them working here. I was born in District 7,'' then she made a moaning noise, "lumber".

Afet chuckled

"I couldn't imagine it Lewa, all that work. Ugh!"

She laughed.

"Afet here was born and raised in the glamorous District 1! Luxury items" she shimmied and the four of us laughed together.

"Is it mandatory that you know all of the names of fish in District 4, makes sense I suppose being the fishing district" Afet mused.

"No, well we have quizzed on the fish in Marine Science classes but it is something of a joke. Everyone knows them just from swimming and being on the boats for so long" it seems extremely foreign to me that these three characters would not know the simple name of a fish. It was so basic, knowledge three years old knew in District 4. It reminded me again, in a cold sort of way, exactly where I was. The people here had not been raised on boats with the salty wind in their hair, pointing at curious fish under the water in their 'beginner' diving gear. I had always known that people had of course lived differently, were raised differently, but I had never thought about it in detail before. It made me sad, I missed home, I realized after a while. My ocean and the sound of it at night before I drifted off the sleep safe in my bed. I touched my fingers gently to my collarbone, I'd place that in my own chest as well. The sound of the ocean crashing on rocks.

"How strange" Lewa mussed, "Jamel did you know what a Queen Angelfish- that's what it's called right Cora- was?"

I'd forgotten she'd said he was form District 4 also. He nodded looking down and adjusting a scale on one of my fingers.

"Yes, it was my inspiration for the outfit"

I watched him until he looked up at me and I was staring at his brown eyes. I could feel his eyes probing mine and I felt for a moment that he might understand my position, my sadness. He simply nodded to me and I tried to smile but couldn't do it correctly.

"She will look like a queen" Afet beamed breaking our connection. I smiled up at him to meet his huge eyes and even bigger smile. They were sweet, each and everyone of them genuinely wanting me to beautiful and perfect, not just because it was there job, but because of me. I smiled at Lewa then too, not the smirk that came so naturally, but a real one and she beamed back.

"You liked that didn't you? Being a queen?" she was laughing.

Nanzeene walked through the door then, angry as she had been the six hours prior. She was clad in what appeared to be the same outfit as before but here hair was now in a very high and messy bun. It reminded me of how many longhaired girls would simply yank their hair out of their face before a dive or while fishing on windy days. She looked tired now also. She walked through the door and just as she saw me the hard lines to her face appeared again.

"You're not in your dress yet?" she barked. I tired to pay in mind that she was suffering from the humiliation of derogation but all it did was hold me back from snapping at her. Jemal answered her then in his quiet peaceful voice.

"We were just about to Nanzeene, you're just in time."

She 'humphed' and walk quickly over to the dress unzipping the bag in one fluid movement as she talked.

"I was just in Roman's dressing room talking with Hurit about the parade. They had a minor wardrobe malfunction because that stupid twit Alinna had not crafted his sandals correctly. We decided that we'd just have the two of them go barefoot. It's simpler and works well enough with the theme." She was pulling out some light blue fabric now, there appeared to be yellow glass orbs hanging from them in random areas," I wouldn't be surprised though if Hurit kicks her off his team. Honestly her complete laziness isn't just a reflection on their team but ours also." She threw the bag to the ground and then looked at me in concentration.

"What is your bust size?" I was unsure of what she was asking and gave her a confused look. Afet jumped to my safety.

"I measured her before, it's a '6', the dress will be a little snug up top but she'll be fine"

Nanzeene nodded to herself and when she wasn't looking I saw Afet wink at me, I gave him a thumbs up back. Lewa giggled girlishly into her hand.

"Alright Jamel hold this side"

The two of them folded and held the fabric in such a precise way that I was unsure at first as to what they were doing. Then the form of a dress started to appear and Nanzeene called me over. With Afets assistance I stepped under the cloth and stood completely still as instructed, while they now folded the dress around me. Nanzeene seemed only to flick her wrist and I felt all the air leave me.

"Ehh!" I cried out in pain as the tightly tied the thing around my chest, compressing it painfully to my breast. I had to take very short little breaths to maintain circulation and air flow through out my body. I was about to comment about Nanzeene job being to make a dress that actually fit me but then I saw Jamel's expression, warning and cautious, and I snapped my mouth back shut in frustration. I could feel my brow knotted above my eyes, it made the scales on my skin clash against each other unnaturally. I wanted to slap her about as much as I assumed she wanted to slap me.

The door opened again then and I looked up to see Ezra walking easily through the door.

"Ezra!" I exclaimed enraged. He looked at me, my face all scaled up, glaring at him in anger as my team of bee's working around me and I saw his face break out into an extremely natural grin. I was surprised to see him actually smiling, it lit up his face giving him the same baby and child like appearance I had first recognized him for. He looked very much like pictures of angels from my History books description of the paintings of Michelangelo and Da Vinci.

"It's not funny!" I hissed humiliated and angered.

He put a hand up as if to excuse himself and, still smiling, looked me right in the eye.

"Oh no of course not"

He was even laughing now.

"I hate you" I sniffed simply and looked away from him to myself in the mirror, at least I was dressed now and despite my scales and makeup I thought I looked almost nice. The dress was pretty. Next to me Lewa frowned.

"Our team does not appreciate your laughter Ezra, we have been working all day on her and she looks beautiful!," she turned to look at me then a smiled, " like

a queen".

Ezra nodded hugely at us.

"I assure you it is not your work Lewa but simply my Tribute" his smile was teasing then and I turned to Lewa proudly.

"And I assure you myself Lewa your work is superb it is only my mentor who does not recognize it" I put my nose in the air and ignored his chuckle.

"We must be heading up soon, Roman is already waiting by the chariot" he was looking at the little clock on his wrist that he called a watch. My team was now sewing little things to my dress. It would take a while. Instantly my proud expression dropped and my eyebrows rose.

"I have enough time though right? I won't be late?" I asked in alarm, just imagine that, the chariots go out everyone is cheering and there is no female for District 4, just Roman standing all by him lonesome. What a great way that would be to start the Games. Ezra sighs annoyed and is now back to his old self as he rolls his eyes.

"If you don't hurry you will be"

Nanzeene pipes up then from where she is kneeling at the hem of my dress and sewing.

"Do not rush our work Ezra" she states simply and that is all that it takes to shut my mentor up. I glance down a Nanzeene, the concentrated frown she has as she sews, and even though I have decided I hate her a certain amount of respect goes out from me to her. She must truly be an amazing stylist if she can get even Ezra to shut up. After a moment she growls at Jamel.

"There are to many of these shells to sew on. You should have done it before she put it on Jamel, you had more then enough time." Her hiss is harsh and I want to protect Jamel like Afet had protected me. In her hands and I see four little yellow shells, holes covering the top of them meant to be sewed in at the hem of my layered dress. Lewa Jamel and Afet all have these shells as well and are sewing them frantically on as well.

"We thought we'd have more time, we didn't know how the dress would fall on her before she put it on" he replies simply.

"I know how to sew, I can put some on"

Ezra makes an annoyed sound but it is Nanzeene who snaps at me first.

"I will do my job Cora and you do yours alright?"

They scurry around my feet quickly and this time I cannot help myself from responding.

"It will be hard for me to do my job if you cannot even finish yours on your own" I snap. Lewa, who is behind me, gasps.

"Cora! Don't you ever speak to your stylist like that" Ezra barks in a fury, "don't you realize what she's done for you?" I refrain from looking at him but instead mutter harshly.

"She wont have done anything at all if it is by her mistake that I make a first bad impression."

Nanzeene looks up at me and I think for a moment that she really will slap me, her brown eyes are in flames, she opens her mouth to yell. Jamel beats her to it.

"Cora, you will do well to know your place when speaking to Nanzeene. How dare you question her," the look of disappointment in his eyes makes me look away, "and Nanzeene we need about every hand we can get right now" he pulls out a needle and instructs me wears to sew three small shell handed to me.

Nanzeene glares at him.

"This is not my fault Jamel, it was you who took too long washing her and it was you two,"- she points fiercely at Lewa and Afet, "who didn't help him to make it on time. Don't think this will go unforgotten" she threatens.

I try to ignore her as I sew in my instructed spots. It is easy work just time consuming, as the shells have to look clean as they hang of the edges of my dress. When I finish Ezra is starring at his watch and nearly drags me thought the door. Lewa gives out a silent shout of "good luck" but is instantly hushed by Nanzeene. I hope the wont be in too much trouble. Ezra must see the look on my face as he pulls me along through the maze of hallways and up some stairs to where the chariots await.

"If you listened to me about as half as much as you listened to Jamel then these Games would be no trouble for you" he mutters, the annoyed and for a moment I think offended, tone he uses makes me rip my arm away, a scale from my hand falls off but we both ignore it.

"Maybe if you tried actually treating me with respect then I'd listen to you" I bark back. He snorts and then continues in his same irritated tone.

"Don't worry about Nanzeene, her bark is far worse then her bite" we are in the room now that the chariots are waiting in. Almost every other tribute is already standing on theirs listening intently to their stylist or mentor. I break away from Ezra as I spot Roman and the District 4 chariot. I jog over to him and step up on the chariot before he even realizes I am there.

"Sorry I am late" I apologize without looking at him. It just seems the right thing to do. He only looks at me and nods, the same as usual. Ezra has caught up with me now and instead of looking merely annoyed now appears to be extremely frustrated.

"Don't you run away from me again Cora!" he hisses in my ear. Roman watches us and from behind I notice Debir as well. I huff at my mentor and stare ahead wishing Jamel, Afet and Lewa were here instead. Maybe they would at least have some comforting words. All around me I see the other tributes on their chariots, one I spot from District 1 is even larger then Roman and stronger as well. They have him dressed in some silver shinny thing. Behind us is a girl who, when I turn around, grins at me wickedly. This is where the Games begin I think bitterly. Now. I stare as strongly back at her as strongly as I can. When Ezra calls for my attention again I give her one last menacing look and turn away. Ezra's icy blue eyes are even more threatening then the girl from District 5's were. His voice is low as he talks.

"Ignore the other Tributes, at least for tonight" he is demanding at first and when he see's me pull away from him he continues but in a slightly softer tone, "to make enemy's now because of a simple staring contest would be foolish, I'm sure you can see that"

I look at him and then nod down at where he stands beside me.

"Fine" I state simply and look back to find Debir staring at me. His large eyes are knowing. I look away again quickly. Suddenly from out of nowhere I can hear the voice of the President of Panem and then muffled clapping. Music, more voices. Cheering on and on and on and on as the music clambers loudly. I think of Debir's eyes watching me and I have a flashback to the Reaping. All the eyes staring at me, my own face ginormous on the screens for everyone to study and to watch. Or worse, not to care about. To think that face is weak, that it will die off quickly. I remembered Constantine and the way her face had looked when they'd killed her. A spear through her belly as if she was made of nothing heavier then a fish. No one had believed in her either and they had been right. What if they hated me? What if they forgot about me? I seized the bar to the chariot fiercely. I could feel the mussels in my hand bulging painfully. The doors were opening now, the two huge doors that lead us out through the huge gathering centers one hundred times bigger then District 4's Justice building. The parade had started; up ahead of us I could see District 1 and their Tributes slowly riding to the opening doors, ready to go through any second. With both hands now I was gripping the bar.

"Ezra", I asked quietly. He seemed to already understand and in a voice that carried little feeling he stated quickly.

"You'll be fine, don't worry"

He had probably said it hundreds of times before. Or maybe just nineteen times. It had no emotion, none at all and instead of feeling angry like I would have normally now I suddenly felt very small and very stupid in my fish costume. They would think I was ridiculous. All they had to do was look at my face, at my scales. The short painful breaths I had had to take before were now escalated into jabs of oxygen that hardly got through my body at all. It was like being under water and drowning.

"Ezra, what did thy dress you as your Tribute Parade?"

Our chariot was now moving, Ezra had to walk briskly beside me to keep up. He didn't answer at first and I thought maybe he would just stop walking and desert me again to the Capitol, alone and frightened but finally after a moment he answered.

"I was a crab" his tone was so painful at the memory I couldn't help but look back at him, to see his expression, it was twisted in embarrassment, "It was horrible" he added. He even laughed painfully at the memory.

"Goes well, you being so crabby and all"

He had had to stop walking now beside me as our chariot was just before the gates. I caught him utter on last shout above the cheering of the crowd.

"You look much better!"

Then I was into the bright lights of the stadium. I was blinded, unaware and scared. I felt like a lobster at market, its claws bound unable to defend itself, only waiting for some hungry man to come along and point at him so he could be taken home to be eaten. Thinking of the lobster then reminded me of Ezra and his crab costume. I was staring to be able to make out the shapes of people cheering, their bodies dwarfed in the mass of the crowd. Ezra in his horrible crab costume. I could just see it, the claws they'd have made him wear, dressed all in red, maybe even antennas. I couldn't help but give a little giggle of laughter at the mental image. Everywhere around me the screams of excitement swirled as our chariot speed down the runway, lights flashed, music boomed. We weren't even half way down. I tried to concentrate my thoughts on Ezra, how ridiculous he had probably looked. And think, despite his horrible impression at the parade, despite how silly he must have looked, he had won. He had gotten his sponsors and he had fought hard and he had won to live another day. If Ezra could have participated in this stupid parade then I could to. He had even said I looked good, better then he had, in his crab costume. I pictured him again, baby face and burning red claws for hands and could not help but to giggle furiously. Releasing my left hand I covered my mouth to try and hide it, I'd look like a stupid little schoolgirl not a competitor! I tried to stop but I couldn't and I was giggling hugely, my fingers covering my mouths, the thought of Ezra in a crab costume stuck in my head when Roman next to me turned. At first he looked confused as to why I was laughing. His face was littered with scales as well only his where sharp where mine where rounded and they accented his cheekbones menacingly. I hadn't noticed that before. Suddenly his face broke out in a grin as well when he saw me laughing into my hand. I didn't know where is smile came from but just to look in his smiling eyes made me giggle even harder. We were smiling now at each other like we were friends. It was almost nice, just for a second. I took my hand away from my face then and still smiling looked forward. I felt confident. Ezra had done this, Debir had done this, even Roman was doing it. They were strong, I could do this. Looking up I saw on one screen a flash of the other flamboyant Tributes and then instantly it changed to a huge picture of the District 4 chariot. The girl smiling beautifully into the crowd did not seem at all scared or insecure as she had felt just seconds before. She looked proud, light bouncing of her face as even her District Tribute remained smiling at her with admiration.

"Roman look!" I gasped and pointed to the screen. The girl pointed back at me with excitement and beauty, light in her eyes, her dress flying back behind her, the scales on her arm glistening. The boy next to her tore his eyes from her beauty and was now looking at the audience from the screen also, they smiled and he too stood striking. Together they appeared to be gods, one fierce even through his grin, the other an image of beauty. The camera flashed to another set of tributes clad in red and I now looked into the crowd. I imagined my parents, what they would do if they were sitting in those seats, cheering for me. I imagined Grifith and Blasé also and instead of seeing executors demanding my death as I had seen them before I forced myself to think of home. Of my neighbors my friends, my choir, even the fish that lived off the little reefs near my house. I thought of Ezra again in his costume and I could not help but smile. I even waved. The chariot was coming to a stop, slowing as it pulled its way to the front of the stadium. The horses brought themselves to their assigned places, I loosened my grip on the bar as it slowed down but didn't let go. My pulse was beating quickly still. I had to take breaths so short and quick I suddenly feared I might faint. I bent my knees as I was instructed to do in choir when feeling faint. It helped slightly. Somewhere among the noise and screams of the crowd I could for a few moments hear the huge chant of "FOUR, FOUR, FOUR, FOUR". I beamed in that direction. It was not only Roman now they cheered for. I had demanded their attention as well. They had not forgotten me. I would not be cast aside like a weak little doll; I would demand an importance in this game. I would demand their attention and they would not forget me. I needed them to know me, to recognize my face and see Roman and me powerful and beautiful on our chariot, my face shining in their minds when they thought of District 4. I waved in the direction of the chant and it broke with excited screams. I saw Roman waving awkwardly himself and when we caught each other's eye he smiled shyly. I couldn't help but grin back, I didn't know why but I couldn't stop it.

The president is a rather small man with brown hair that is greying quickly. He speaks for a while but I find that it is hard to keep my focus on his words. The adrenaline from the parade still courses through my veins quacking my heartbeat and making my breaths ever more difficult. Still I make sure my eyes are locked on his. I will not have the cameras viewing me as some simpleminded girl who cant even listen to a speech without losing interest. They've already caught me giggling, hopefully that will come off as excited or cute or something like that though. Next to me Roman shifts once or twice and I wonder if his outfit, a light blue tunic that reveals most of his strong torso dangling with matching little shells, is uncomfortable. I study it slightly out of the corner of my eye, it looks extremely comfortable. Unless he doesn't like how revealing it is. I shrug in my mind. I don't need to be worrying about him. The speech goes on for a short time, President Snow honors the Tributes he has condemned to die, there is much clapping and I clap politely along with the crowd (Roman quickly follows my lead). After the president is done the horses pull the chariots around in a circle, showing us off to the crowd that hoots and hollers. I wave again but have to constantly remind myself of my family and friends, of the home in my chest, to make it convincing. At one point Roman nudges my and points to the main screen above the cities Justice Building in the stadium. Flickers of the event race across the camera every so often I will catch a glimpse of myself or of Roman smiling and waving. Other Tributes wave as well, some glare fiercely, yet others simply stand there in shock. That might have been me had Ezra not gifted me with his embarrassing story. I will have to thank him for that. Even if I looked silly and foolish at least I did not look scared. That was the worst thing I could appear to be at this point, forget what was on the inside raging protests in my mind, the crowd had to see a confident Cora, a beautiful and powerful Cora. I still might be able to accomplish this. The actual Games would be a different story to weave. As the pictures of the screen started moving faster the ending of the video got closer until he audience could barely make out the clips at all and then in one relaxing frame the cameras stopped on one picture titling "52nd Annual Hunger Games" above it.

"Cora!" Roman whispers excited.

The frame has stopped on a picture of the two of us in our chariot. The shock of seeing myself frozen on camera with the Hunger Games symbol above my image wears off fast and I am able to study the picture. It is of Roman and me, our faces turned to each other so that you can see the scaled sides of our cheeks and forehead. It must have been taken when I was giggling because I am covering my mouth shyly as I laugh in what appears to be a 'sweet' sort of way. My eyes are fixed on Roman who's eyes are just as fixed on me. For the slightest of moments I feel a pang of jealousy fill myself as I look at Roman's picture. He scales combined with the lightening make him look so fierce. Even with him smiling at me it is evident that he is a powerful enemy, a willing choice for a sponsor. I try and erase the feeling and do mostly but there is still an uneasy after taste from it. I wish bitterly that I could have come across half as striking as him. Still it is our picture. They are staring at our faces and even I can tell that there is a certain distinct beauty in my eyes, on my cheekbones exaggerated by the scales. Jamel, oh Jamel, I will never be able to thank you enough for this gift. Lewa will be so happy; I certainly look like a queen. Beautiful and extravagant. I try and concentrate on that as the frame slowly goes black and it is only the shouting of the crowd that I can hear. Slowly the horses pull each carriage around and we head back through the doors. The chanting in overwhelming and the dark shadows and seclusion of the cave is the most welcoming thing I feel that I have felt since the Reaping. The horses direct themselves to a post where Ezra, Debir and a very short and almost adorable man wait for us. Both mentor's faces are expressionless though it is easy to see that by Debir's twinkle in his eye he is pleased with Roman. When the carriage stops Roman hops of off it and turns around politely trying to assist me. As if I am some little girl. Already that damn giggle has diseased his reputation of me, maybe it would have been better to have looked scared. I frown at him annoyed and slide off the chariot as gracefully as possible. Ezra is at my side in a second, his blue eyes watch me and he puts his hand on my back to guide me somewhere.


	7. Chapter 7

I am about to shove it off, enraged that he assumingly has been reduced to think of me as a giggling fool but then he lower his head and whispers in my ear.

"There will be people trying to distract you but we have to discuss your strategy, some things have been…altered"

When he is down I look up at him confused.

"Look I know the giggling was stupid and-" I start he waves me off and I stop. Guiding me with his hand we quickly abandon Debir and Roman dodging in and out of the crowd of Tributes as well as stylists and mentors. I feel a hard smack against my left shoulder and I am knocked backwards slightly as someone runs into me.

"Excuse me I-" I start but then see who it is who has hit me. He is probably around my age as well and is of medium height. His costume, something like silver plates around his torso flatters his broad shoulders and slim waste. Blue eyes stare at me. Then a harsh smirk crosses his face.

"District 4" is all he says and in his eyes I can see some sort of cold hatred. None of his other features give this away, his mouth is even turned upward but I can see it in his eyes. I look back at him now and raise my eyebrows.

"I'd learn to walk in a straight line if I were you, wont be difficult to pick off a Tribute without that", I reply just as coldly. His expression turns bitter but then Ezra is stepping in between us.

"Move along then" he glares at the boy. He only glares back for a moment challenging the Victor but then Ezra takes a step forward, "I said_ move along then_". The noise comes through his teeth. Without even seeing his face I can imagine the hard lines, the edge and threatening glare of his eyes. The boy takes a step back but he does not appear scared.

"Etain!"

Another man walks up behind the dark haired boy in the silver armor. He puts a hand on his shoulder and frowns in an upset manner first at his Tribute and then at my mentor.

"Ezra, what seems to be the problem"

I recognize him, he was a Victor when I was younger, the boy with the gadgets. I look at him now older and recognize the glasses, his wiry hands. He does not accuse Ezra but there is no doubt he is protecting his Tribute Etain. I look at the boy as hard as I can, one eyebrow cocked upward in a superior way. He curls his lips looking at me as Ezra answers.

"There _is_ none, not in my eyes and not in Cora's"

The man then looks from Ezra to me and studies my face. I give him the same look, cold and unimpressed. He sniffs then looks back to Ezra.

"Good and there is none in mine. Etain?"

The boy looks up at his mentor, lips pursed.

"Well of course not" he states and then gracefully strides away. I watch as a flamboyant older woman pats his back. His mentor looks at Ezra.

"I'll be seeing you too later" he states humbly and then follows Etain.

Ezra snarls and then looks turns back to me. We walk quickly to the elevators that take us to our flat. I notice that even thought there is plenty of room two Tributes from what appears to be District 12 do not enter, their handsome mentor glares at us as the doors close. When Ezra and I are alone in the elevator I quietly begin my questioning.

"Does that sort of thing happen much?" I ask

He squints his eyes, his voice is impatient but I think perhaps it is not me he is aggregated with.

"The incident with Beetee and his Tribute? Not as much as one would imagine. You should have let me handle it though"

I start to argue in my own defense but he cuts me off sharply.

"The last thing you need now are enemies who will be specifically hunting you down in the arena" his voice is matter of fact and precise. I frown at the opening doors.

"It was because of the picture at the end wasn't it? They are jealous that Roman and I got the most attention."

He nods. We enter the room and I do a double take surprised out of my worry and annoyance. I have ridden many elevators in my life. There were not many in Burbs besides some in the local hospital I had had to take when Mama got sick but there are many in Mercado. Since we'd stayed in almost all the hotels I had gotten used to riding an elevator and then walking down the hall until we found our room number and unlocked the door. This elevator led right up to room exactly, opening to an exquisite opened area with unusually high ceilings and detailed furnishing. It was like the train had been only larger and wider. A dining room already had food waiting on it for us. I walk towards it but then I hear Ezra.

"Make a table for us in the study, we will be eating alone in there tonight. And don't forget to be extra generous with my Tribute"

I turn to see if he is addressing me but then I see he has already swept past a young woman in red robes. I hadn't even seen her. As I look around the room I see four more. I raise my eyebrows and follow Ezra done a hallway. I will have to be more observant in the future, the near future I correct myself with a glare. The hallway leads to another rather large room with a fireplace and many bookshelves. It is warmer colors, dark woods and burgundy carpet. Comfy looking couches and armchairs arrange themselves around the room. It reminds me of the pictures I've seen of woods and forests. All the colors and the atmosphere. I like it, it seems peaceful. There is another servant in the room and Ezra quickly addresses him.

"When he gets here let Debir know that I am in here and not to be disturbed…there is paper and pens in the living room notebook if you need them" the young man nods and walks out.

"And I'll be expecting my dinner soon" he adds. I watch as he goes to a secluded spot in the back of the study, isolated by a couple of bookshelves and sits himself on an armchair. I'm not sure what to do and I stand there awkwardly for a moment as Ezra gets situated. He has arranged himself on his chair in comfort and puts his fingertips together thinking. I wait another moment and then let out a quiet cough to signal that I am still here. He does not break his stare but addresses me.

"Ask one of the Axons to show you to your room, wash up in there but be back soon, I don't want the food to be cold" he waves me off.

"It might be a while, I'm not sure how to get these scales off" I'm walking away and he replies after me.

''Hot water, I asked Jamel"

When I exit the study I see a few Axons scurrying to prepare our food. They are scoping things and sorting things. I feel a little guilty as I interrupt their work.

"Excuse me" I start, the five of them look up at me, they look frozen waiting for my order, "I was wondering if one of you might tell me where my room is, I can figure it out if you just tell me, I don't want to interrupt you"

There is a moment when the six of us just stand there looking at one another and then a girl, the one Ezra had initially addressed, walks up to me quietly and gestures for me to follow her. As she turns her back I follow her, slightly offended. Did they think I would not be able to figure it out myself? Surely the floor is not so complex that directions to a room would be so hard to handle. She leads me through another hallway and then places her hand on a door.

"Thank you" I say simply but when I go to open it she puts out a hand to stop me. I look at her and very slowly she first points to herself and then makes an 'x' over her lips. I raise my eyebrows surprised.

''Oh you don't speak!" I realize.

She nods quickly and then makes a gesture to the living room.

"None of you?" I knit my brow in confusion, "I'm so sorry I didn't know"

she merely nods again and starts to go back to the living room but I stop her by placing a hand on her little shoulder, "Can you let the others know that I wasn't trying to mock them or be cruel in anyway"

I feel oddly guilty, I'm not quite sure why. She looks at me in such a way that lets me know that this happens quite a lot and they are perhaps used to it. I nod back to her and smile but she does not return it and simply leaves. I'm slightly upset when I walk into my assigned room and see that it is purely white. It seems cold and distant to me, unlivable in a way but I will only be here for a few days and then the arena will be my bedroom. The scales come off in the shower quickly and I am in and out, scrubbing off my makeup and running my fingers through my wet hair, in less then ten minutes. I dress in a simple navy silk pajama set and dry my hair with a towel as I make my way back to the study. When I cross through the living room I see Roman and Debir talking, their heads close together, Roman is still in his costume. Before either of them notices me I leave quickly and enter the study that an Axon male guards from uninvited peoples. He lets me pass without a second look. Ezra has already started eating the food that had been set on the coffee table before us. Like in the train I have no idea what half the food is but whatever it is Ezra has left me a huge amount as he finishes what appears to be some kind of meat. I sit down in the chair across from him and start stacking my plate. It is a few seconds before he speaks. His voice is very professional.

"Before we start on anything else you should know that you have done something that every other Tribute hopes to do in this set of Games. You have made a first impression. For that I congratulate you"

I raise my eyebrows and slowly answer.

"I was not expecting your praise" I admit cautiously.

He taps his fingers together and looks across the room in deep thought.

"I was not expecting you to ever deserve my praise"

And then we are back to our usual cold alliance. I glare at him as he continues.

"Never the less you and Roman have made a wonderful entrance to the crowd." He picks up a remote and clicks something, on the wall next to us a television goes on. I see Caesar, the host of the Hunger Games, he is talking to another smaller man, and a picture of Roman and me on our chariot is splayed out behind them.

"- just the way the lights catches that look in their eyes. So powerful and memorizing. They appear-"

Ezra turns off the television then. I am extremely impressed.

"As you can tell" he adds. I stare at were the TV is black now. He interrupts my thoughts by coughing and starting again.

"I know you are concerned with the giggling Cora and I don't know how you possibly switched moods so fast before the parade but it served its purpose. They are talking about you now and that is all that matters"

My voice is low when I answer.

"But it made me look weak"

Ezra shakes his head and his eyes are squinted as if he is trying to solve a hard question some of the distance in his voice leaves then.

"Not necessarily. Because of the setting and the way Nanzeene had presented you it came across as if you were simply excited to be in the Capitol, you were excited to look beautiful with your handsome male counterpart"

I let out a groan. I want to put my face in my hands and curl up in a ball. How could I have let myself look so silly, so simple minded. I think that was what was bothering me the most, the fact that I had appeared stupid and so shallow. Surely if I were at home watching the parade I would have rolled my eyes and snarled at such a prissy Tribute to represent my district. I suddenly think of my Papa at home. What had he thought? Mama surely would have been glowing with pride but what had Papa been thinking. That he had already lost his daughter? I blinked. Ezra seemed to understand my thought process.

"You shouldn't be ashamed to have come across in such a way. I don't understand why I have to keep repeating myself. You caught their attention"

I swallow something dry and flavorless.

"If they were going to be cheering and supporting me at all I wanted them to do it because they actually knew it was _me_. I wanted to present myself as…myself" I struggle for words to explain this and think maybe Ezra will think I'm crazy again and make a sarcastic remark but he merely looks at me.

"A survivor is a survivor Cora, no matter what they did to get themselves there. Abandoning your morals to win is no exactly new to the game" he adds on bitterly. I purse my lips together and then realize what has been bothering me all along, why I hated wearing makeup for my mother, why I didn't want to wear the Capitols clothes in the train, why I was angry that I had acted so shallowly at he parade.

"I don't want them to change who I really am." I say slowly, then I point to my chest, "I don't want to compromise my soul for my life"

Ezra frowns at me as if he is trying to understand me but then after a moment he simply sighs and points to my food.

"Make sure you keep eating, you still have seven pounds to go"

There is a look in his eye though and I question him further.

"Do you know what I mean? About not becoming something…different?"

Ezra looks at me, his cold blue eyes stare into mine and he knits his brows. I don't know why I am insisting on an answer. Maybe I am not as independent as I thought I was. Maybe I really do need to at least know that I am making sense, that I am real and Ezra can hear me and understand me. In a cold voice Ezra does finally answer.

"Yes I do but I learned that lesson much later then you did"

I only nod and Ezra and I keep looking at each other. It is an understanding moment, it does not make me feel warm and comforted like the home in my chest made me feel but it is…reassuring. I think perhaps I trust Ezra. I think that maybe he in turn believes in me know. It is a calming moment, the two of us confiding in each other and I suddenly realize that all of what Jonah said before on the train is true. Ezra has been in my place before. He understands me probably more then any one in the world right now. He had probably even felt foolish after his parade. He had still won. A little voice in the back of my head whispers that maybe with his help I can win also.

"CORA! CORA! Oh, where is she? Where is the little queen?" I am snapped out my thoughts and turn my head. Lewa's voice echoes through the flat. She is calling for me. Almost directly after her I hear Afet as well.

"Oh no you see, we are her styling team, you can let us through" I get up from where I am sitting in the hidden corner in the study and walk around the bookshelves to see the three of them there. Lewa, Afet and of course Jamel all huddled together only held back by the Axon boy. When they see me they shriek happily. I cannot help but smile and wave back.

"Cora!" Afet sheiks, "you looked splendid! Absolutely brilliant. Oh I have never seen such a beautiful Tribute before. So radiant and lovely"

I grin at his words and see Jamel smiling proudly at me. Lewa speaks next.

"Oh we would have been here sooner but, my god, the four of us could hardly take two steps without being congratulated! It was wonderful honestly dear you are all _anyone_ is talking about"

I smile to them.

"Well that's really thanks to you isn't it" I beam and they are shushing me and telling me it was all me when Ezra walks upso they can see him. He speaks admiralty but still professionally.

"Both Cora and I are very pleased with your work. You have definitely given her a gift many Tributes would kill for," I look up at him but his expression does not show if his wording was intentional or not, "but Cora and I are very busy now. We must prepare for the Games"

Lewa pouts.

"Oh no Ezra! Please we've been dying to talk to her"

Afet chimes in also.

"Yes we just turned down talk from Chancel the head gamemaker to get here quicker."

Ezra is about to continue but I speak first.

"I'll have time to talk to all of you tomorrow. It is important that I actually know what to do in the Games though," I smirk at them and add, "you wont be able to make me the winner by making me beautiful, unfortunately"

before they can respond Jamel steps in.

"They are right, Cora needs to focus on surviving now and we still have to work on her dress for the interview"

Lewa gasped then.

"Oh Cora you're going to love that dress! If you thought you looked like a queen tonight you just wait. We are determined to outdo ourselves!" she is smiling again now, happily.

"I can't wait" I laugh. There is something about them, those three. Maybe its their over excited tones or their genuine want for me to appear my best but I can not help but grin. Jamel smiles at me and I mouth 'thank you' to him especially. He was the designer of the District 4 costumes this year. If I made any sort of impression, even with my giggling, it is thanks to him and my team. He merely nods back. Then the three of them leave bantering excitedly about my interview dress and exit my line of vision. I watch them go. It is only when Ezra talks that I remember I am not alone.

"I think what we will focus mainly on tonight are the other Tributes. It is easy to say that you will have to be familiar with them if you want to outlive them"

I nod and we go back to our corner.

"Lets start with the Reaping" he picks up the remote but before he clicks a button I stop him.

"We are only going over the other Tributes tonight?" I ask. Ezra looks annoyed for a moment, as if I am questioning his mentoring style, I quickly add, "it is just that we could have done that in the main room. I thought we might be discussing my strategy tonight, what with us being so secluded from Roman and Debir"

Ezra raises one eyebrow as he replies.

"It is good for you the Tribute to have on singular place that you associate with comfort and determination. Almost like a safe house if you will. Also I do not want you to be with Roman any more then is mandatory. That means we will be eating meals and discussing everything in here."

I frown.

"Why"

I thought Ezra might snap or sigh in annoyance but he answers simply as he clicks the remote.

"I don't want you two to grow attached to one another"

I wanted to stay up later then Ezra would let me studying my fellow Tributes but Ezra insisted that I should not be awake past eleven. Tomorrow I would be all day at the training center and my mentor insisted I need my rest. After he had made the comment about Roman and me I had started to argue back but he had merely waved me off and pointed to the screen

"Pay attention" he demanded quickly and I, frowning, glared at the television. It didn't take long for me to forget about Roman and become completely drawn into Ezra's lecture. He was pleased that I didn't interrupt him and I was too caught up in the Reaping and the playbacks of the parade to ask more then a few questions. We went through them one by one, by district starting with the male from number one, Strang. He had, of course been a volunteer, and built like an ox, more so then even Roman. He had taken the place of a thin but decently built sixteen year old boy and lunged himself up to the stage, long hair hanging in strings around his face. When he spoke he breathed words in a way that made it sound like was panting loudly the whole time. He might have been but yet I doubted he was so nervous. Ezra pointed out things like the way he walked, how he hunched his shoulders. Things that seemed normal enough but that he wanted me to pay extra attention to. The girl from District 1 did not seem like too much of a threat, she too way a volunteer but as soon as she spoke it was evident that she was no great thinker. It was really the girl from District 2, Inga, that got me slightly worried. She volunteered in the place of a little girl and almost beautifully danced up to the stage. She looked like a dancer, like she was floating whenever she walked. There was something in her though that bothered me. Ezra seemed not to mind her more then any other Career but I insisted that she was more then she appeared. Looking at her was like watching a wild snake attack its prey. It would sway its head gently and almost mesmerizingly but then BAM you were bitten and you didn't even know how it had happened. She was not someone I would want to have angry with me and something in her poise and beauty suggested she was much more deadly then her male counterpart who smiled and laughed along with the crowd. District 3 was nothing very interesting but I paid special attention to Etain as he was called up. He was the first non-volunteer but once he was called nothing in his stature or expression suggested that he hadn't intended to. He looked calm and when District 3's host asked his a few questions he was intelligently charming. The crowd went crazy for him as I frowned at his confident half smile. The girl who was called looked like she was in a state of, she was very young, could not have been older then thirteen. Etain did not look at her until he was forced to and then he seemed to squeeze her hand a little to hard. I hated Etain. My first thoughts were that I wished he would die quickly and in by some painful way in the arena but then I blocked those thoughts out. Was I wishing harsh deaths among people now? Was I becoming no better then the Capitol themselves? Maybe I had lost myself already. I shook my head to clear out the thoughts. Ezra insisted that we skip over the District 4 Reaping but as he fast- forwarded through it I could see my face on the screen. In one shot it looked qhite and empty, in another I was smirking. I saw Romans face, then Jonahs, then a zoom in on all of the Victors sitting unsmiling in their seats of honor. A quick snap shot of Roman and me shaking hands and then on to District 5.

"That's is the girl who had been staring at me before the parade" I point to her picture. He was not a volunteer either but, like Etain, she does not seemed scared by the prospect of playing in the Games. The District 5 male tribute though has tears streaking down his face as he steps onto the stage. He is younger as well; maybe fourteen and just hitting his growth spurt. I cannot help but feel pity for him mixed in with a slow impatience with his extreme lack of strength. One could at least try to appear strong, I had hadn't I? As hard as it had been. Ezra makes us stop after District 5. It is late at that point, almost 11 and even though I beg him to do just one more he insists that I go to sleep. I eventually give up and storm out of the study in frustration. As I pace through the main room I see Debir sketching something as Roman eagerly watches him. They don't spot me, just like last time, and I quietly slither into my own room. An Axon is waiting for me. She is not the one I had talked to after the parade but she too is rather small. Her hair is blond like mine and she appears to be maybe at the oldest twenty. I smile to her cautiously, she wont be in here tonught will she? For some reason having someone watch me as I sleep makes my skin prickle in distaste. When she sees me though she quickly hurries over and presents me with a piece of paper that is neatly folded in her hands. I read it slowly.

We are obliged to tell you even

If your mentor mentioned it before hand

That District 4's male Tribute,

Roman, as well as his sponsor, Debir,

Will be staying in rooms across

The flat.

Your room will also be guarded by  
Two Axon males as you sleep.

I frown at the letter and look up at the girl.

"I dont think you will have to be too concerned with Roman trying to hurt me in my sleep, it wont be an issue"

She nods but then points to the last sentence again.

"The guards will still be there though?" I ask. She nods quickly. I sigh and roll my shoulders.

"I suppose that is for the best. Thank you for this information Ezra had not told me"

She smiles politely in a way that does not reach her eyes and then shuts the door quickly behind her. I am about to slip into my bed when from across the room I notice something that was not there before. Against the white it had not been noticeable at all but when I walk towards it I instantly recognize my sleeveless dress I wore to the Reaping. A note lies gently on top of it.

It was too beautiful to be

Thrown away.

-Jamel

I hold the dress to my face and breath in the smell imagining that it might still have the air for District 4 and Burbs and of the sea and my family. Oh Jamel, when will you ever stop with your gifts? That night I take off my navy pajamas and slip into the dress to sleep in. It is more comforting then any fabric could ever be as I fall into sleep.


End file.
